


Finding My Happy

by Rejection_isnt_failure



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: A rewrite of the bechloe kiss, Clingy Beca, F/F, Fluffy, Frustrated and jealous Beca, PP3 au, Smut, So totally and adorably in love Beca, THE KISS HAS BEEN LEAKED, a lot of smut, based on the PP3 kiss, brace yourselves for the ride, hehe, it gon get intense, whoa nelly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28032492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rejection_isnt_failure/pseuds/Rejection_isnt_failure
Summary: When Beca finds Chloe kissing Chicago, she fears that she waited too long... but what if she isn't too late. Maybe all she really needs is to find her 'happy' and never let it go.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 133
Kudos: 223





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The much anticipate leak of the kiss we've been waiting 3 years for was enough to give me a swift kick up the backside. This fic will be two chapters, the second of which hasn't been written yet, but that's where I plan on bringing in the smut.
> 
> This chapter is devoted purely to that 30 second clip.
> 
> The next has no limits lol.
> 
> I hope you like this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I just am so damn happy we have the kiss. I hope it inspires Universal to just release the actual HD footage so I can edit it somewhere into the film lol
> 
> (Thank you to chloebeale (aka, snowbritt) who proofread this before I posted it.)
> 
> A/N. I haven't read ANY post "receiving the Bechloe kiss" fics. I didn't want to taint my ideas with other people's.

Red.

The sweltering embers of an open flame. Stand too close, and one runs the risk of getting burned.

Red.

It’s the only thing Beca can see, whether her eyes are open or not. The only colour present… is red.

Red, anger. The scorching fire emanating from deep within every crevasse of her soul, all consuming, and begging her to turn away. To run. Never look back.

Red, danger. The voice inside her head that reminds her over and over again that  _ this _ is why she had had her walls erected in the first place. To stop them from breaking them down. To keep people out. To keep them far away. 

Red, heartbreak. The fortifying or rebuilding of those walls in the event that someone finds their way in and breaks her the way her heart is fragmenting the longer Beca watches the scene in front of her.

Red, love. The very same  _ love _ that is asserting its dominance over the movement of her limbs, forcing her to stay exactly where she is and hope to God that it is all just a dream. That there is a chance she will wake up and find Chloe right next to her, in their shitty NYC apartment, fast asleep and cuddled up to her... Just the two of them. Like it had always been.

A harsh, staggering breath escapes from her pursed lips, and Beca finally finds herself able to avert her eyes. Avert them from the painful visual of Chloe, the beautiful woman she is totally and unequivocally in love with, kissing a man she had known for barely a few weeks.

Unfortunately, it is a little too late to pretend she hadn’t seen the make-out session, although it isn’t, however, too late to claw her eyes out.

She had seen more than enough for the sight to be forever seared into her mind and tattooed onto her heart by the jagged edge of a shard of glass.

It hurts.

God, it is downright  _ agonising. _

The reality of the situation is that the young brunette has been planning for weeks how she was going to throw all caution to the wind and profess to her best friend (and love of her life) just what she means to her.

No. That's not entirely accurate. 

She’d been planning it for months, years even, but it was only recently that she decided she was going to  _ act _ on her feelings. She’d concluded that she had been wallowing in her self-pity for far too long, and that it was about time she do something for herself, and thus, find herself ‘some happy’.

That had been the reason she had made a last minute change from singing Khaled’s planned song to what was essentially her coming out song.

George Michael’s Freedom had been her love song to Chloe, her way of letting the older girl know that she was finally being true to the person she had always been. And who was that person?

Not  _ Shawshank _ ,  _ Beca EFFIN Mitchell _ ,  _ DJ BM,  _ or whatever other nicknames people had given her over the years.

Beca. Just Beca.

A self-proclaimed bad-ass who is, and always has been, so in love with Chloe that she’d do absolutely anything, drop anything, to make her happy. She had once suddenly asked for two days holiday after Chloe tearfully called her on her work phone to tell her that her father asked her not to come home for Christmas. 

Beca had known the extra senior years had taken a toll on her relationship with her family, but she had cuddled up to the girl and let her know just how amazing she really was. That had been the day she realised she was  _ in love _ with Chloe; that it wasn’t simply a crush or an infatuation. 

When she had been stood on that stage, all by herself, using the foot-loop pedals to create her harmony from scratch, she had seen Chloe in the crowd. Of course, she was difficult to miss, but Beca had seen the way the girl hadn’t once taken her eyes off her and she had thought  _ finally _ , they were on the same page. There had been this unmistakable spark in Chloe’s eyes… and the smile on her lips?

It was her favourite smile… the one that always said ‘ _ I am so damn proud of you Becs, my little Super Star’ _ ; and the very same one that never fails to quicken her heart rate and make her palms sweaty. She’d do anything for that smile.

Thinking back to when she’d brought her girls onto the stage with her, she remembered the heated glances her and Chloe had shared, the lingering touches as they crossed each other’s paths; as though ensuring that the other was still there. Every time she caught Chloe’s eye, she had tried to wordlessly convey something,  _ anything _ , to the girl to get her to stay after their performance. 

She  _ had _ been singing at the time, of course she couldn’t have just asked her.

But had she known what the current outcome would be, there is no doubt that she’d have stopped the performance there and then to tell Chloe herself. Khaled be damned, Chloe has always been and will always be the most important person in her life.

Unlike the predictable plot in so many of the stupid movies she’d been forced to watch over the years, the guy doesn't always have to be the one who gets the girl; Jesse had learnt that the hard way and by extension, so had she. 

Sometimes, just sometimes, the girl gets the girl.

Instead, she’d reluctantly decided that the only thing she could do was catch the girl the moment she had finished discussing the future of her career with Khaled, who was bound to find her after her performance. Maybe she’d be lucky enough to get to Chloe first.

She can still visualise it now, the way she’d hoped everything would happen. 

She’d take Chloe by the hands and ensure they had sufficient privacy, before pulling her in close, and saying the words that had been on the tip of her lips for the last four years.

" _ Chloe. I love you. I love you so much _ .  _ Be mine forever and I will never let you go. _ "

She’d gaze into shimmering ocean blues before leaning in to press their lips together the way she'd imagined it for so long; tenderly, passionately, and most importantly,  _ lovingly _ . 

God, her lips. The number of times she found she was unable to stop her gaze from dropping to the very lips she fantasized of kissing in the seven years she’d known the girl was utterly extraordinary to Beca. Every time they’d speak, it was just… instinctive to watch the girl’s lips sensually form each and every word… by this stage, she was sure Chloe must have noticed her gaze, especially since she spent an astonishingly long time licking said lips whenever she happened to be watching.

They always looked so soft and inviting, and she just knew they were made to fit her own. And when Chloe would bite down on her lower lip... God, Beca wanted nothing more than to bite down on the lip herself... Softly of course, but enough to let the girl know that they belonged to her and her alone. 

But for now, all Beca can do is regret not having acted on her desires earlier, and wonder how things might have been had she taken the leap, made the jump... Would Chloe have caught her?

She feels Theo's presence to her right side and she can’t find it in herself to acknowledge him. To be fair, she isn’t really in the mood to talk to anyone, but he has been getting on her nerves with the number of compliments he has bestowed upon her as though she will suddenly fall into his arms and call him ‘hero’ for getting Khaled on board with her.

What is it with the men in her life treating her like some damsel in need of saving? Jesse had done the same thing, trying to get her to change for him and then blaming her for trying to resist. Her own father believed she couldn’t make a living from music… 

Either way, she refuses to provide anything more than a non-committal grunt.

She is in love with her best friend; she doesn’t know how much more obvious she can possibly make it. Sure, she hadn't physically 'told' anyone, but the Bellas knew, and she didn't even need to admit it to them.

A gentle hand to her shoulder startles her, and the start of a compliment falls from Theo’s lips, “You were great-”

But that is all it takes for Beca to tense and push him away with a semi-forceful hand to the stomach as she kicks herself into gear.

Enough is enough.

She knows what she wants… who she wants. No more running away. No more what-ifs and if onlys. No more wondering what might have been if she had only been braver.

This is her moment-  _ their _ moment. And she is going to clench it with both hands and never let it go again. 

This is the last chance she will ever give herself to find her happiness with Chloe. It’s all or nothing now.

And so, with a confident swagger to her step and a smirk on her lips, she is certain she doesn’t need to turn around to know that Theo is staring at her in total disbelief, he should have clocked on that she wasn’t interested in him. What with her abundantly clear and consistent rebuffs.

She does however throw a coy “I gotta show him how it’s done,” over her shoulder to the music producer, in a tone that belies the nerves she does feel in her stomach. This is the bravest she has ever been, and yet she is just as terrified. 

She can’t help but smirk at the reality of her words which were more along the lines of:  _ I gotta to show this guy once and for all that Chloe is off limits and that she is  _ _ mine _ _. _

With her gaze locked on the still kissing couple in front, she holds back a wince, but something strange happens that almost stops the girl dead. Her fear disappears. Totally disappears. The fear of the unknown, of losing her best friend… she isn’t afraid any more.

On the contrary, she actually feels braver than she’d ever felt in her life.

And it is this bravery that forces her to quicken her pace, and when she notices Chicago leaning forward as though intending to dip Chloe, Beca tugs on Chloe’s shoulder, pulling the dazed girl away from the soldier, and spins her around to face her.

Theo’s amused “I always knew” is lost to her as she gazes into her favourite pair of ocean blue eyes, belonging to the very woman she wants to spend the rest of her life with.

_ Chloe Beale. _

A smile comes to Beca’s lips, and Chloe’s parted mouth and shocked expression are the last things Beca sees as she crashes their lips together, happily catching Chloe’s moan in exchange for her own. 

She immediately brings her hands up to cup the girl’s cheeks, suddenly panicked that Chloe is going to inevitably pull away from her… but to her surprise, she never does.

Instead, the redhead wraps an arm around Beca’s head, her hand firmly clasping onto Beca’s hair as she pulls herself even closer. 

Beca gasps into Chloe’s mouth when she feels her hair frantically being tugged on and Chloe takes the initiative to deepen the kiss. It is desperate, but at the same time, so very tender and loving. 

It is everything Beca had dreamed of and so much more, and as she traces Chloe’s bottom lip with her tongue, she feels the rumbling moan in Chloe’s chest and catches it with her answering moan. She finds it hard not to grin into the kiss as Chloe presses herself tightly against her body, as though there was never an intention for letting go.

_ Yes, soldier boy,  _ _ this _ _ is how you truly kiss Chloe Beale _ , Beca can’t help but think.

She is in seventh heaven, her body feels as light as a feather and she may as well be floating amidst the clouds, suspended mid-air with no gravity keeping her feet firmly on the ground… Chloe’s lips feel like coming home. 

_ Home _ . She doesn’t recall the last time she ever felt as though she were home. She had felt some form of it back when she lived with her ‘sisters’ at the Bella house, but before that? Perhaps when she had been growing up with both her loving mother and father present. After her father left and her mother died, her home was no longer a home. Just an empty building where love ceased to exist.

Chloe, however, has always felt like home. This constant warmth and bubble of happiness she seems to constantly exude, it is honestly contagious. Beca craves it all the time.

Wherever Chloe is, is where she wants to be.  _ Needs _ to be.

Her lips are sweet, like fresh strawberries covered in a rich and delicious chocolate glaze, and as their lips refused to part, Beca finds she simply can’t get enough of it. 

She wonders what Chloe thinks of her own lips. Whether she thinks her kisses are better than the soldier’s, whether she revels in the fact that her smaller body feels better against hers than the taller and more muscled body of her counter - part. 

How do their kisses compare?

Chicago’s looked sloppy and rather frenzied, his hands inexperienced and gropey, as though he couldn’t wait to get Chloe out of her clothes to fuck her. The thought, in actuality, makes Beca’s blood begin to irrationally boil. 

_ How dare he treat Chloe as his sex plaything! _ He had known her for barely a few weeks and couldn’t even try to get to know her first before needing to have his way with her. Chloe Beale is the epitome of beauty and kindness, patience and utter devotion. She deserves to be wined, dined, and shown just how amazing she is.

Air soon becomes an issue and Beca finds herself needing to pull away momentarily to re-capture what little oxygen she requires, before quickly changing her mind and the angle of their broken kiss and firmly re-attaching their lips. She feels her toes curl the way Chloe’s tongue s curls into her own.  _ Jesus. _

Chloe certainly doesn’t seem to be complaining as her hands unclasp Beca’s hair and instead re-locate to the small of Beca’s back to pull her _even_ _-_ _more_ tightly into her body. Beca’s arms follow suit and wrap around Chloe’s neck.

This kiss feels different to the previous one. It somehow feels more… real. Like, the first kiss was to show Chloe that  _ she _ is the one she should be kissing, whilst with this one… it’s slightly more subdued, as though reinforcing to Chloe the fact that she  _ wants _ this.  _ Wants  _ her. And she  _ wants _ to continue kissing her, and so much more. 

Nothing else matters to her. Not Khaled, not Chicago, not Theo… not even the Bellas, who are probably cheering them on from the side-lines… the nosy bitches. 

It’s just them, Beca and Chloe, here in this moment, and within the confinements of their own world. 

This is their own story… their beginning, and the start of what is sure to be their happy ending.

It is their time.

Beca finds she simply cannot get close enough to Chloe. No matter how hard she tugs on Chloe’s hair or how much Chloe pulls her into her body, she just needs to be closer.

A moan forces itself from Beca’s throat when Chloe’s hand lifts her left thigh to wrap her leg around her waist almost in an attempt to carry her completely. She finds herself unable to resist thrusting up into Chloe, her panties suddenly feeling a lot damper than usual. 

She worries she might scare Chloe away with her eagerness, after all, they hadn’t discussed what exactly  _ this _ is, but her fear seems fruitless when she considers Chloe’s actions. With the way the redhead moves her own body in accordance to Beca’s thrusts, almost encouraging them, she gets the impression that Chloe actually  _ might _ want this just as badly as she does.

Which…  _ wow. _

Beca’s louder-than-usual moan is all it takes for both girls to break apart, realising they were still in the public eye. 

Beca bites her lip when she takes in the totally dilated eyes of her best friend, both girls breathing heavily.

A smirk crosses Chloe’s lips as she takes a firm hold of Beca’s hand and drags her away with her, paying no attention to the two men who have absolutely no idea what they had just witnessed

  
Beca follows blindly, still lost in her  _ Chloe haze _ and never once removes her eyes from the girl leading the way, and she entwines their fingers together.

_ Finally. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think?
> 
> I think we all had our expectations on what we wanted to see from the kiss, and tbh, I'm just happy we have something.
> 
> As you noticed, I left out the Theo/Chicago piss-take because I felt it totally unnecessary, and I wanted our focus to be on our girls. The way it should always have been.
> 
> I think the most important part of this specific kiss relates to the fact that this would be Beca at her most vulnerable. She's just a girl standing in front of the girl she likes, wanting her to like her back (sorry Notting Hill).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!
> 
> So I've changed the fic to being 3 chapters, and this one isn't the smut. the next one will be.
> 
> I added this part because I felt it was imperative and I felt compelled to capture everything I could to make it perfect. to make it real.
> 
> So behold, chapter 2.
> 
> Thanks to SnowBritt, aka, Chloebeale, aka, tmylm for being my beta.
> 
> As always, I do not own Pitch Perfect or the characters, or the kiss unfortunately otherwise the movie would have been even gayer with a lot of bechloe kisses and a happy ending... and no irrelevant men. :)

Yellow. Rays of dazzling sunshine breaking through the dark grey clouds, hinting at the hope for better things to come after too much uncertainty and despair.

White. The blinding flash of unrestrained joy that bleeds from the beaming smile thrown her way every few seconds. It’s almost enough to render her utterly speechless, and her heart, a cacophony of irregular thumps.

Blue. The glow of a billion stars sparkling within the endless pools of visibly stormy eyes, like the moon casting its radiance upon the serene surface of the sea. Mesmerising. Drawing her in, willingly, with not a moment’s doubt or hesitation.

Red. Danger. 

Red. Fire.

Red. Hot.

Red…

Love.

The gentle warmth encasing her hand is not unusual, after all, her own hand has been well familiarised with its owner for years. Nor was it out of the ordinary for prickles of electricity to drive through her veins at the very contact, as though there is nothing more important than for their palms to be kissing, their fingers tightly intertwined.

Even the most minute of connections offers stability, warmth, comfort and… home. 

It feels like _home._

Anxiousness ferociously swirls around her stomach, causing her muscles to clench, at the thought that she had almost missed this chance to kiss and touch this ethereal being. 

She had been far too close to giving _her_ up before she had even had a taste of this; a taste of home. 

Of _forever_.

This has been a long time in the making, that much is certain to her. Years and years of what-ifs and if-onlys all fusing together to create this singular moment, the now.

The present.

The future that had once been blurry, uncertain, and unforeseeable, is now the clearest it had ever been. Like the sky after dark storm clouds dissipate, leaving behind nothing but clarity, beauty, and a hint of freshness in the air.

All because Beca Mitchell had done what she, herself, had been too scared to do for the last seven years.

All because Beca Mitchell had pulled her into her arms and kissed her the way she had never been kissed before.

Chloe feels her cheeks heat up, flushing a deep red hue at that particular memory; it isn’t irrelevant that it had barely been five minutes since they had pulled out of said kiss. Amidst the anxiousness she can’t help but feel, there is also this… spark that she finds she cannot explain. 

A spark that her kiss with Beca had somehow ignited.

The kiss had been… desperate… passionate… as though both girls could not get enough of the other, or close enough. Their lips had collided with such fervour that Chloe had just… lost herself in the volcanic eruption of every single feeling she had been trying so urgently to suppress coming back to her at full force. 

With that single kiss, Chicago, and her _accepted_ unrequited feelings for Beca simply… disappeared.

With that single kiss, the whole world outside of herself and Beca suddenly just… ceased to exist. 

Beca’s lips were soft, albeit demanding, her own lips returning the kiss with an eagerness she never thought she could ever possess. An eagerness that masked her fear that if she stopped, if she pulled away, hesitated for even a single second, she would never feel Beca’s lips on hers again. 

She would never have another opportunity to show Beca how she truly felt about her, in the purest sense of the word. 

Chicago’s lips had felt rough, and slightly chapped; his tongue, disappointingly inexperienced as he had tried to enter her mouth with it almost immediately after she’d initiated the kiss. One kiss had almost been enough for her, and she had felt that, should they continue _whatever_ it is their flirtation might lead to, she might have had to teach him.

Beca’s lips however, whilst they had been as equally desperate and eager as her own, were tender in their caress, as though allowing her to settle into their embrace and not dominate her the way Chicago’s had. She had allowed Chloe to lead the kiss despite the fact that Beca had been the one to initiate it, and Chloe had been more than willing to do just that.

She was sure that Chicago had been only moments away from dipping her in that cliché ‘ _I am man, you are woman’_ way that Chloe had seen in most romance films. That’s not to say she hadn’t dreamt of being dipped, but Chicago’s stationary hands on her lower back had made her feel slightly claustrophobic, as though he were holding her firmly in place as opposed to letting their kiss drive their movements. 

It seemed like he didn’t quite know what to do with them, which also added to the disappointing reality of that kiss. All those lingering looks and flirtatious compliments… for nothing.

And to be perfectly honest with herself, Chloe dreams of doing the dipping, rather than being dipped. With the heat and intensity of her and Beca’s embrace, she had simply given into the temptation to reach down for Beca’s thigh and lift it up to wrap around her waist, her own hips thrusting into the petite girl. 

There had been no hesitation on her part whatsoever, and truthfully, she had actually been seconds away from dipping Beca the way she had imagined it no less than a thousand times, before they had, unfortunately, broken apart.

Chloe shakes herself from her thoughts when she notices Beca shoot another smile her way; and then the redhead promptly stumbles over her feet. They hadn’t even left the concert area, and at the rate she’s going at, they never would!

Beca’s giggle unwittingly lightens her heart, the way it always has done, and Chloe finds herself back in Beca’s warm hold. It wasn’t very often that Beca initiated hugs, but whenever she did, Chloe would find herself just… melting into it. She craves intimacy, physical and emotional closeness, and she always has done, but intimacy with Beca… Chloe can’t remember a time when she hasn’t wanted it.

The younger girl’s hands slide from her shoulders down to her lower back, where they simply rest, holding their bodies flush against one another. She feels Beca’s fingers tapping along to a made-up melody, and it is just… so Beca, that she can’t stop the smile from coming to her lips. She _loves_ the fact that music plays such an integral part to Beca’s identity, that it is literally in everything she does, whether the girl realises it or not. 

And right here, in this very moment, there is no expectation, no pressure, just her and Beca once again lost in their own bubble, where everything around them fades away like waves into the wake of a ship.

“Hey,” Beca whispers, her cheeks flushed a very gentle pink hue, and Chloe recognises that it isn’t from embarrassment. 

Not this time.

With the soft smile playing on the brunette’s lips, added to the shimmer within her stormy blues, Chloe concludes that Beca is… happy. Not just ‘ _alright’_ or ‘ _fine’_ , or ‘ _I’m whatever, dude’_ , and this is certainly not her usual smile, but rather… delighted. Comfortable. Blissful.

Chloe can honestly say she has never seen a sight more beautiful than Beca right now, in this very moment. 

Her eyes take in her ruffled hair, and she remembers the way her hands had been grasping onto it during their heated kisses, tugging her as close as humanly possible. Beca’s own eyes are still glazed over, whether from lust or something else Chloe doesn’t want to make any assumptions about. And the content smile playing on her swollen lips? 

Chloe feels her legs tremble and her thighs quiver in arousal. Even her dreams could not have prepared her for this sight.

_Thank_ _God_ _Beca is holding her upright_.

“Hey,” she whispers in return, her own lips curving into a giddy smile, and her teeth nervously biting down on her lower lip. She can’t help it, she never thought she would be this lucky.

Her breath hitches when she notices Beca’s eyes flicker down to her lips, ever so briefly, before returning to her eyes again. Her stormy greys darken, and Chloe finds herself unable to do anything else but lean in and-

“Bhloe,” Beca and Chloe let out disappointed groans at the untimely disruption, the young brunette’s head snapping to the side, sending a sharp glare at whoever the hell _dares_ to interrupt them.

Fat Amy stands anxiously with a sheepish grin playing on her lips. Of course it’s Amy. _W_ _ho else refers to them as Bhloe?_

“Amy, listen-” Beca grumbles darkly, and Chloe knows she is about to tell the girl to, in her polite manner, _fuck off_ , but the brunette cuts herself off when something light hits her shoulder and, by reflex, she somehow catches it before it hits the ground.

A hotel-room key card.

She feels the brunette exhale slowly before exchanging a confused glance with her, and they both turn back to the Australian for some sort of explanation. Amy, for the first time since Chloe has known her, isn’t being her usual and irritating self, and Chloe finds her own frustration dissipating at that realisation. She’s nervous.

Her mouth drops in shock when she watches the blonde bring her hand up to wipe away a tear she hadn’t noticed was trailing down her cheek.

“The Grand Suite,” Amy breathes out shakily, sniffling slightly as she pretends to be indifferent, “I thought you might want to spend some time together without any disturbances.”

Eyes widening in astonishment, she finally understands just what Amy is trying to tell them.

“Ames-” she inhales.

A hand to the air halts her mid-sentence, and Amy straightens herself, standing tall and proud, but no less sincere. 

“You’ve had my back all these years, both of you, and now I want to have yours. It’s the nicest room they have to offer, and you both deserve it… this… each other.”

She doesn’t know what to say, but before she can try, her head snaps back to Beca at the sound of a muffled sob reaching her ears, and she feels her own eyes fill at Amy’s generous gift to them.

Chloe instinctively rubs the brunette’s back, hoping her touch is soothing Beca the way Beca’s always soothes her. 

“Ames, _thank you,”_ Beca sobs out.

She’s giving them the chance to work out everything that is between them. No Bella interruptions. No will they/won’t they moments. No more what-ifs and if-onlys.

She’s gifted them with _Time_.

Amy sends them one final smile before leaving, and Chloe turns her attention back to Beca once more, slightly startled to find the girl already gazing at her contentedly. She hasn’t bothered to wipe away her tears, so Chloe takes the initiative to do just that, gently and tenderly, sweeping her thumbs under Beca’s eyes.

She has a feeling she will never get used to being the sole focus of Beca’s attention, although… now that she thinks about it, maybe she had merely never… noticed before now.

There is this warmth in her gaze, something so affectionate and adoring that the only person Chloe has ever seen _that look_ on… was herself.

A few years back, Aubrey had at one point, taken her to the side to show her a photo she had sneakily taken of herself conversing with Beca… or rather, her gazing _adoringly_ at the brunette as she spoke, most likely about music. Her best friend had then proceeded to confront her about her _aca-obvious_ feelings for the spiky brunette _alt-chick_.

That had occurred at some point during Beca’s first year, after one of their weekly Acapella parties, and she hadn’t even known the girl five months at that time. 

Aubrey hadn’t judged her, _surprisingly_ , and when she had broken down in tears telling her best friend that she _really liked Beca_ , the blonde had gently cradled her in her arms, kissed her forehead, and whispered “I know”.

And that had been that.

She never imagined Beca would-

She never thought she’d be lucky enough to-

A gentle kiss pressed to the apple of her cheek brings her back to the present, an airy giggle sounding in her ears and bringing her smile back to her own lips.

“So _that_ happened,” the brunette whispers as though letting Chloe in on a secret.

“Amy is… full of surprises.” Chloe snickers shyly, her cheeks once again flushing when Beca tucks a loose strand of hair behind her left ear, before gently running her fingers over the lobe, soothingly. She _loves_ it when the girl strokes her ears. More often than not, in NYC, she’d wake to the feeling of Beca doing precisely that and she remembers wishing, more than anything, that the girl would just lean in and kiss her good morning. Every morning.

But she _hates_ this shyness that she suddenly feels in front of the one person she is most comfortable with. There is no logical explanation behind it; she must still be in shock with everything that has happened. 

After all, when Chloe pictured kissing Beca, _being with Beca_ , she imagined that it was through her own doing.

She imagined Beca returning home to their Brooklyn apartment and her stalking up to the brunette, shoving her into the wall, and just literally… jumping her. She imagined working with Beca on the Worlds setlist, and suddenly pinning her to the bed, Titanium playing on the wireless Bluetooth speakers in the background as they made out. Heck, she even imagined their first shower meeting, if she had been brave enough to _fuck_ the girl then and there…

What if.

If only.

Chloe finds there is never any use dwelling on the past when their present, the here and the now, is far more significant. Who knows where they would currently be had she taken the risk all those months and years ago. Would they still be together? Or would they have disintegrated as quickly as Beca and Jesse’s relationship had?

Jesse.

Ah.

He was another reason Chloe hadn’t acted on her feelings for Beca during her Barden years. Beca is many things: Smart, talented, an amazing dancer and singer, genuine, loyal, and fiercely protective. One thing she isn’t, is a cheater. And neither is Chloe.

Jesse had been annoyingly persistent; kind, of course, but the way he had been insistent on changing the parts of Beca that she _loved_ , is something she thinks she will never be able to let go of.

Thank God that bridge burned down quickly and efficiently… even if it did take three _long_ years.

And with the way Beca is looking at her, this apparent deep yearning for _more_ , makes Chloe think several more are about to burn this evening. The bridge of friendship, for one, and the bridge of… impossibility.

“I think,” Beca husks as she leans into Chloe’s ear, “we should check out this suite Amy has so _graciously_ gifted us with.” 

Chloe exhales shakily, her legs turning to jelly once more. She clutches at Beca’s shoulders to steady herself and shivers at the breathless chuckle caressing the sensitive skin of her ear.

“It would be a _shame_ to put it to waste, don’t you think, _Chlo_ ? I’m sure we might be able to…” she pauses and grins wickedly, “ _put it to good use_.”

“Totes,” she manages to choke out as Beca grabs hold of her hand once more, throwing a quick wink behind her, pulling her with her.

God she _needs_ this girl _._

And she _needs_ her **now**.

If they don’t get to their suite within the next five minutes, Chloe isn’t sure she can be held responsible for her actions.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo how did you like it?
> 
> I hope after reading this that you'll understand why I needed Chloe's perspective. I felt I wouldn't be able to give her justice if I didn't see things from her eyes, and I wanted you to fully understand that they were both in this together and they both wanted what they got. there was nothing one-sided or unrequited. no misunderstandings. just them, together, and getting what they have been wanting for such a long time.
> 
> it wouldn't have felt right to go straight to the smut. I needed them on the same page and I needed everyone who reads this to know they are on the same page.
> 
> I haven't written the smut yet, but boy am I excited, that's for sure.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and onwards we go.
> 
> I didn't want to leave you guys hanging for too long, and I knew that what I was going to write when they arrived in the bedroom would be long, but they hadn't even gotten to the bedroom yet. so I split that and got the journey out of the way first, and don't worry, it is relatively heated, not gonna lie. 
> 
> but now that this chapter is out of the way, *waggles eyebrows*
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer, I still don't own PP or our girls, because this fic is how I would have ended PP3 if I had.
> 
> thanks to SnowBritt, or ChloeBeale, on Tumblr; aka, tmylm for being my beta. you are one heck of a talented gal.

Grey.

The colour of loneliness, coldness, pain and suffering. It used to be the only colour she could see, the only one she wanted to see.

There would be a dull greyness coating every visible surface as far as the eye could see. She had painted the walls around her heart with it, a deflective guard, so to speak, to ensure that nobody could ever wish to get close to her.

It was her solitude.

Her defence mechanism. Her safe place. Her solid ground.

She’d hid behind those walls _refusing_ to let a single person through; refusing to let them see her… the _real her_. The real her that had been hurt far too many times by those she had once allowed close to her, and they’d ultimately let her down.

She was so used to people leaving after they’d promised her that they wouldn’t, that it simply never shocks her any more.

She’d made the decision long ago that it would be better to seal her walls off _indefinitely_.

Seeing colour meant having hope, pursuing happiness even. Colour was unpredictable and open, and she preferred control and privacy. She liked knowing that a lot of people don’t want to be close to those who are shrouded in darkness… and she had been content. But nothing more.

Her clothes, her heavy eyeliner, her nails… her _heart_. The comfort that grey provided her had been her saving grace, her very own burrow of warmth…

Up until it suddenly wasn’t.

Up until someone had suddenly _flicked_ on the light-switch and everything… was no longer dark and lifeless.

It was… bright.

The colours were vibrant. They carried new emotions, or at least, they awakened once-dormant ones. Feelings she had almost forgotten, it had been so long.

It wasn’t _unpleasant_. She just wasn’t used to it. How could she be? Her life leading up to that moment was nothing more than a series of disappointments, one after the other.

She suddenly felt… alive.

Because one day, she had met Chloe Beale, and the bitter world that she had once known abruptly became a little more bearable. She hadn’t known it at the time, hadn’t _understood_ it, but she had felt a shift from within. It was ever-so-slight, but it was noticeable to her. It was in the way her heartrate had notably increased, her palms had turned clammy, and her usual snark and resentment… a little less present than usual.

The flash of white in her smile that day at the Activities Fair, the ocean blue eyes that had sparkled the moment their gazes had locked onto one another, the fiery red curls that looked unbearably soft… She can still remember the way she had looked, even years later.

And ever since that _fateful_ September day, Chloe Beale had become the very epitome of colour in her life.

Beca hadn’t known it then, but she always would be.

That hadn’t been the only thing that past-Beca hadn’t known at the time. That this beautiful, bright, and extraordinary woman would one day become her whole life. Her dream. Her entire future.

Even now, amidst the sheer desperation and pure _need_ driving them to get to their suite, Beca simply cannot get enough of her; the way she tastes, the way she feels under her fingertips… the sizzling heat of Chloe’s body against hers. It’s as though once the floodgates had opened, there was absolutely nothing in the way of getting what she wants. Who she wants.

And she is all in.

Like the crack of a starting pistol, the elevator _dings_ and Beca is off. She pulls away from their embrace, yanking Chloe in behind her without a moment’s hesitation, repeatedly ramming the button for the top floor as though it will make the doors close that much quicker.

Beca directs a harsh glare to an innocent bystander who is about to stick an arm between the doors to keep them from shutting, but upon seeing her, retracts it with a murmured “I’ll wait”, allowing the doors fully close.

With the ascension of the elevator, Beca, unable to last a second longer, turns and _slams_ Chloe into the mirrored wall, and with her startled – and soon-to-be muffled – _yelp_ , their lips firmly attach together once more. She hopes to God no one gets on this elevator at any point because not even the appearance of Khaled himself would be enough incentive for her to tear her lips from Chloe’s.

The redhead whimpers into her mouth and Beca can’t stop the shudder that rockets through her body like a wave of lust, her thighs quivering as a frantic need overwhelms every single one of her senses. A need to have her way with Chloe Beale, to _fuck her_ the way she has imagined for the last six years…

To fuck her in **_every_** way she has imagined for the last six years.

She feels Chloe’s hands claw at her hips, struggling to tug her considerably closer – if that is even possible – and Beca obeys without hesitation, leaning into Chloe’s body and not allowing for any space between them.

Any space is wasted space, in her opinion.

There had been far too much space between them over the years; she’d had plenty of regrets at having been too scared to fill it by pulling the girl into her and never letting her go. That is why Beca will do absolutely everything and anything in her power to ensure she will never be that stupid again.

Letting Chloe go will _never_ be an option for her. Even if there is metaphorical distance, what with Chloe’s vet school and her own recording contract with Khaled… she and Chloe are the real deal. They’re in this together. Forever. And _nothing_ will ever again prevent them from finding their happy ever after.

She won’t let it.

Chloe’s tongue runs along the seam of her lips and Beca grants access immediately, allowing her own tongue to welcome Chloe’s in impatiently. And as they begin their now familiar waltz, Beca’s mouth curves into a gentle smile. The most genuine smile she has ever given, and one that bleeds satisfaction.

She changes the angle of her kiss by tilting her head in the opposite direction, Chloe accommodating through instinct, and she cups the older girl’s cheek ever-so-tenderly. Her skin feels so soft under her palm, almost delicate, and she has this sudden urge to protect her from harm’s way, even though she is fully aware that Chloe is very capable of fighting her own battles.

_Her biceps… her six-pack…_ _the V of her lower abs, or as she knows them,_ ‘ _the sex lines’._

The amount of restraint Beca has shown over the years at not staring whenever Chloe puts any of those particular parts on show… she’s almost certain she deserves some sort of award. Jesse’s body had _never_ made her so desperate to trace her tongue over said skin and never want to stop…

Chloe’s eyes open mid-way and when she notices Beca’s already on her, her ocean blues glistening emotionally in the low light, her breath seems to catch in her throat. Beca doesn’t blame her in the slightest for that response; Chloe has taken her breath away so often that she thinks of Chloe as her ‘ _word thief’_ , though she’d never dare to say that to her face.

That would allow for a life-time of teasing as well as the fact that her bad-ass rep would be in tatters… that is, if it weren’t already.

The brunette leans back slightly, her breathing a little haggard and her heart clenches within a vice grip at the frustrated mewl Chloe lets out at the loss of contact. She sweeps her thumb under Chloe’s eye, lightly tracing over the apple of her cheek in a soothing motion, as if to say _I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, my love. We have all the time in the world._

Chloe’s pupils have dilated to the extent that her eyes may as well be completely dark, and for once, the sight of that particular colour is almost enough to cause Beca’s eyebrows to furrow. There ought to be not a single trace of the colour from within Chloe’s myriad of colours; it doesn’t belong anywhere near the girl. She did not want to be reminded of her _old guard_ ; the way it used to be **B.C.** _(Before Chloe)_

The breadth of raw lust glimmering within Chloe’s eyes is almost enough to tempt Beca into recapturing her lips once again, and added to that, the _vision_ of the older girl biting down on her swollen bottom lip… Beca may as well have passed out. Not even her wildest fantasies have affected her as much as the reality of Chloe in this moment.

But she has plans.

Although she isn’t quite in the right frame of mind to check how much longer they have until they reach their floor, _damnit_ Beca doesn’t want to waste another second of not _touching_ Chloe. She is well aware that if she kisses her again, she isn’t going to have the willpower to stop.

So, with a - hopefully sexy – flip of her hair, so that it rests over her left shoulder, she firmly attaches her lips to the soft skin of Chloe’s deliciously inviting neck, and the redhead _fucking_ _moans_ right into her ear. She feels her entire body shudder at the sensation, Chloe’s breath had of course caressed the skin of her neck alongside of the moan, and it had felt _delicious_.

Her hands clasp onto Chloe’s waist, ensuring that she holds the girl as still as possible whilst her mouth works, lest she be distracted again.

The sound of a dull thud brings her attention away from Chloe’s neck, and she figures the girl’s head had slammed into the wall. She finds herself momentarily concerned, she doesn’t want to cause Chloe any pain. But with the way two confident hands travel up her spine - leaving a blazing path she could feel over the thick material of her golden jacket - and clutch onto her hair, holding her head in place… she is sure Chloe is _more than okay._

She peppers the moist skin beneath her lips with gentle, barely-there kisses. Teasing her. Needing Chloe to crave more. Demanding that Chloe tells her… **_begs_** her… for more.

And she would give it to her. She would give her the whole damn world if she asked her.

Chloe tugs her head impossibly further into her neck, and she can feel the vibration of the taller girl’s whimpers and whines in her throat as she adds her tongue into the mix, tenderly lapping at the sensitive skin.

_Delicious and sweet._

It is something she had always found slightly… odd; the idea of someone tasting _sweet_. She’d never paid it much attention, labelling it as ‘stupid’ or ‘ridiculous’ and rather fabricated. And yet, she shouldn’t be surprised that Chloe would be an exception to that rule.

After all, now that she thinks about it, the last time she had literally ‘tasted’ Chloe had been at whilst at Barden. They had all celebrated Stacie’s birthday at her favourite club, and someone – Fat Amy – had dared her and Chloe to do body shots, which of course the ginger had coerced her into.

She can still taste the bitterness of the salt and lime, the instant fiery burn of the tequila… and then there had been the natural sweetness of Chloe’s skin… which turned out to be a perfect combination.

A louder-than-usual whimper transports Beca back to the present; she must have found Chloe’s sweet spot because her hands suddenly clench at her hair and, in total surprise at the sharp sting, Beca reflexively bites down on the skin. The howl that escapes from Chloe’s lips instantly soaks her panties.

It was _primal._ It was wanton.

It was… so utterly sexy that Beca physically has to force back her own moan to prevent her from echoing it and when she finally releases her mouth from Chloe’s neck, the darkened patch of skin stops her dead.

She _marked_ Chloe.

_She_ marked Chloe.

_She_ marked _Chloe._

She had never seen herself as being possessive or territorial, but the visual in front of her of Chloe willingly allowing her to mark her neck with a hickey, like a badge of honour, essentially telling other people that she belonged to Beca… well, Beca finds herself completely and unequivocally turned on.

Her arousal seems to increase all the more when Chloe’s lids slowly fluttering open, her head slowly rolling forward and her eyes locking onto Beca’s.

The silence that follows speaks louder than any word Beca might be able to stutter out if she could only get her mouth working.

Her eyes unconsciously drop down to Chloe’s lips once again, mesmerised by the wicked smile curling along their edges and she wants nothing more than to fuse them with her own once again, but the _ding_ of the elevator prevents her from doing so.

“Bec,” Chloe whispers, her eyes flickering over to the open doors, prompting her to move.

Beca stares at her in honest-to-God confusion before she manages to shake herself from her _Chloe-Haze_. Her arm thrusts out before the doors can close and they re-open almost immediately.

Straightening up from her position against the wall, Chloe clasps onto Beca’s wrist as she confidently swaggers out from the elevator, the small brunette stumbling behind her like a lost, but loyal puppy. Damnit, she _hates_ sitting on this see-saw of control with Chloe; one moment she is in charge, and the next, Chloe takes over with no hesitation whatsoever.

Their suite is the only one on this floor, so there is next to no chance of someone running into them or hearing what is inevitably to come… and then annoyingly knock at their door, pleading with them to stop.

Beca would have just made sure Chloe moans _even louder_ to drown out the complaints.

_Good God_ , Beca internally sighs when her eyes rest on Chloe’s magnificent ass as she walks ahead of the two. She had spent so many years watching Chloe as she walked; observing her as she bends over as well as the way her leggings would just… tighten around those gorgeous, firm muscles.

It was a sight so enthralling, she is positive Chloe had almost caught on a handful of times over the years; she knows the other Bellas had. She would just ignore their teasing, and they knew better than to say anything about it in front of Chloe; to their credit, they never did.

They’re barely halfway down the corridor when Beca instinctively tugs on Chloe’s wrist, jerking the girl into her and crashing their lips back together as though it had been entirely too long since they’d last kissed. It’s clumsy – sue her, she is still getting used to the fact she can finally act on her impulses – but equally heated and demanding, and Chloe certainly isn’t complaining as she gives back as good as she gets.

A fire ignites from deep within her stomach, its flame growing stronger and hotter with each passing second the longer the girls hold the kiss. Beca playfully tugs at Chloe’s lower lip, the other girl exhaling breathlessly into her mouth and she changes her angle of attack to keep the heat simmering between them.

She then spontaneously slips a thigh between Chloe’s legs and leans forward, thrusting her hips up and into Chloe, and the redhead unconsciously rocks into the motion, her moan passing into Beca’s mouth. They’re _dry_ _humping_ , such a high school move and yet, feeling the heat of Chloe’s centre on her skirt-clad thigh… _Jesus Christ._

Her hands clasp at whatever she can reach, which happens to be Chloe’s lower back, and she squeezes gently before travelling her hands down the distinctive vertebrae she could feel through Chloe’s jacket and down to her ass. Just… resting there. Casually. Familiarly.

Something in Chloe shifts, and Beca can feel it almost immediately. It’s in the way Chloe’s posture stiffens ever-so-slightly, the way she presses her lips _even more_ fervently into her own, and the way her own hands dip down to Beca’s ass. Without any warning, the girl jerks Beca upwards, her thigh providing the necessary force Chloe was clearly searching for.

To be fair, the friction does wonders for herself too, but the magnificent pressure she feels against her own core is _not enough_. She needs more.

Beca breaks their kiss simply to watch as the older girl’s head falls backwards, her mouth dropping open as a silent moan barely escapes from her lips; it is more like a huff of breath, if you ask Beca… but it is no less sexy.

Chloe’s brows furrow in what appears to be concentration, and as her hips continue rolling, Beca understands that Chloe is busy focusing on bringing herself pleasure, and that is _so okay_ with her.

More than okay.

Her right-hand dips down even lower to the back of the other girl’s thigh, and with her gaze locked on Chloe’s face, she brings the leg up - much like the way Chloe had done it to her earlier - ensuring she wraps it around her as she guides Chloe’s movement. She obviously has the timing right and when Chloe rocks once again, her breathless whimper tells Beca that she had made the right decision and that she is rubbing against Chloe the _right way._

The redhead’s eyes snap open and anything Beca could have said in the moment dies on her lips as she takes in the sight of Chloe looking astonishingly… _wild_. As though she were moments away from erupting.

Beca’s free hand franticly raises up the material of her own skirt, allowing her bare thigh the opportunity to feel the naked heat of Chloe’s centre through her soaked panties. Beca can’t hold back her gasp as another gush of wetness further drenches her own lacy panties at the first-hand knowledge that Chloe is just as wet as she is.

That she _wants_ her as much as Beca wants her.

She wants nothing more than to ravish the girl right here, right now, out in this open, albeit private, hallway… but for their first time, she knows the girl deserves a lot better.

She deserves the world.

So as much as it pains her to pull away _knowing_ that Chloe is getting unequivocally closer to her climax, she would rather it be in the secluded vicinity of their suite, and preferably, on their bed, as opposed to… a corridor.

She wants Chloe to be comfortable when she makes her come; she wants her to be as loud as she needs to be without the fear of someone finding them, or even the hotel CCTV cameras catching them. She wants the girl naked and quivering beneath her, coming undone by her hands – or lips – over and over and over again.

The bed, the shower, the jacuzzi, the wall, the floor… she wants to christen the entire suite once, heck, twice over… and in the morning, she wants them to repeat the whole process until they are too satiated and boneless to be able to move a single muscle.

“The room,” she murmurs into Chloe’s skin when she leans down to place a sweet kiss on her sweaty throat. “Babe, the room.”

Chloe whines, but acquiesces to Beca’s words and gradually slows down the thrusting of her hips before coming to a reluctant stop.

Beca presses a thankful kiss to her throat again, before capturing Chloe’s hand and entwining their fingers together as she drags her down the rest of the way to their room, quickly swiping the card and pulling Chloe in behind her.

The door _slams_ shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew.
> 
> Who's ready for the actual fun now that they've arrived at the bedroom?? *raises hand*
> 
> Let me know if you're liking it so far.
> 
> *evil grin*


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to update you, sorry for the wait. 
> 
> I had planned for this fic to have one final chapter, which I've written. It's over 20k words! 
> 
> Holy crap, right? 
> 
> I decided, after mulling it over, that I was going to release it in parts, even though I am always happy to read a long fic. I didn't want anyone getting bored.
> 
> I'm thinking, (depending on where I end each chapter because it all flows together), perhaps 2 more chapters? but they may be 10k each, so we'll see how I feel. I'm not ending a chapter in the middle of smut, lol.
> 
> So, without further ado - I present the first of a few EMOTIONAL smutfests.
> 
> from this chapter onwards, it is unbeta'd. so I hope it's okay.
> 
> Go easy on me, heh, I'm not that good a smut-writer ;)

**~ BECA ~**

Fireworks.

A myriad of explosions, each as bright and vibrant as the last; a seemingly never-ending display that is honestly the most stunning she has ever seen. One that is so very visible and awe-inspiring, even from behind closed lids.

Metaphorically, for sure; symbolising the start of something beautiful, a transition from greyscale into colour, dark into light, and a simple desire, _need_ , for it to never end.

Emotionally, absolutely; signifying the transformation within herself. The crumbling of the final pieces of her once strong wall barricading her heart, her deflective guard, leaving her open and vulnerable.

Spiritually, unequivocally; epitomising the permission she has given herself to gift her heart to the only person she knows is deserving of it.

The very same person that she undoubtedly believes is the love of her life, her one and only, the yin to her yang, and the harmony behind every single piece of music she has ever heard.

It’s sentimental, she is well aware of that, but it is nothing short of the truth. Beca is done running from it, hiding it… hiding the part of her that strives to find the happiness that has long been absent from her life.

She has never believed in fate. Nor destiny. Nor anything that even remotely related to supernatural or spiritual events that defy the very scope of scientific logic and explanation.

And love at first sight? _No thank you_. Call her cynical, but it gives people way too many unrealistic expectations about love, only to end up disappointed when things inevitably don’t work out.

However, meeting someone for the very first time via common interests, even in the most unexpected of ways, and sensing that they will one day change your life…

_That_ she believed in.

After all, she met Chloe through music.

Chloe had been searching for new additions to their acapella group, The Barden Bellas, whilst Beca, admittedly, was too busy surveying her surroundings to watch where she was walking.

Unpredicted, unexpected, and yet she wouldn’t change that day for the world.

She had still been in her rebellious phase, and if it weren’t for the fact that she was feeling particularly bitter toward her father about their argument, him forcing her to come to Barden, as well as the whole… abandoning her and her mom… well, let’s just say she’d have agreed to attend the auditions there and then.

No lies or half-truths, no questions, and no sarcasm. Anything to keep the gorgeous smile on the beautiful redhead’s lips.

She instead turned her focus to the uptight blonde stood next to her with her arms firmly crossed; rude, obnoxious, and looking for a fight. In other words, a perfect distraction for her.

Although she hadn’t been _aware_ of having any sort of interest in women - and whilst her entire world had admittedly shifted onto its axis the moment she saw Chloe - to her utter surprise, she had sensed some kind of… _yearning_ to get to know more about this oddly captivating senior.

An urge that, whilst she wouldn’t dare admit at the time, quickly transformed into this… _hunger_ by the time of their second meeting. This deliciously wet - and very, _very_ naked - **weirdo** had burst into her steamy shower cubicle to force her to sing Titanium with her.

And she had - although not totally by choice. Beca blames the useless dormant lesbian inside that she had no idea even existed until that moment. Picturing Titanium as her _Lady Jam_ sure hadn’t helped curb her _less-than-appropriate_ thoughts, if anything, it made it harder for her to concentrate on the lyrics.

Her eyes had also _inadvertently_ strayed from Chloe’s every few seconds to wander across the expanse of bare skin that was right in front of her, although she would sooner confess to liking Taylor Swift than divulge that she had very much admired what she had seen.

And with the shameless way Chloe’s gaze had travelled over every inch of her own body, accompanied by a heated leer when their gazes locked once more, it was that instant she realised that she was turned on. A lot.

Like _a lot,_ a lot.

To the extent where it had actually been the first time she’d almost given into the sudden urge to kiss another girl… in fact, no, there had been a temptation to do so much more than _just_ kiss her.

If she’d had her way, Beca would have thrown all caution to the wind and ignored every voice inside her mind begging her to not do something stupid.

She’d have fucked her, taken her right there in the shower, consequences be damned.

She’d have pinned her against the wall, and then to the floor, before bringing her back to one of their rooms to fuck her again, and again, and again. Of course, so long as Chloe was into it. _Consent and all_.

_Oh God_ , there are times she wished she had done just that, and it was positively absurd. Absurd because she hadn’t even known the girl or whether she’d be interested. They were both already naked, at least, which would have been half the battle.

She won’t lie, sometimes it kept her awake at night, the what-ifs and if-onlys constantly churning through her mind as though reminding her of the what-could-have-beens, with an extra sprinkle of crippling self-doubt.

_Had she wasted time by not saying something sooner?_

She doesn’t know the answer, and she wouldn’t even know where to begin if she were to consider calculating a response. The first time she had questioned herself was the instant she figured out that her ‘crush’ on Chloe wasn’t actually a crush, but an all-consuming inferno of sexual attraction, awe, compassion… and being head over heels in love with her.

However, when she thinks back to what they might have become if she had followed her instincts in the shower - fuck buddies or friends with benefits, most likely - the chances of them and their friendship having survived Barden, let alone life after, was very, very slim.

It was almost a certainty that it would have collapsed in on itself.

The _bad-ass mystery,_ that she likes to think is her aura, would have intrigued Chloe at first, but there’s no doubt she’d have gotten bored and lost interest in her. They wouldn’t have built their friendship on the foundation of mutual trust and respect, at least, not in the same way as they did. Sex would have come first, and potential feelings would have complicated things.

More importantly, she would not have been given the opportunity to gradually fall in love with this magnificent woman over time, and on top of that, love her just that little bit more every single day that passes.

The reality is that Beca is glad she waited. The thought that their friendship might not have otherwise survived, that she might have lost Chloe from her life so soon… it’s enough to make her sick.

She doesn’t even want to imagine it.

****

A life without Chloe Beale.

Beca isn’t the same person she was at the time they first met, that much is clear. She has since matured, gained confidence in her potential and her capabilities, and she’s learnt to treat herself with the respect she lacked from others.

Chloe taught her more about herself than she had ever known was possible, and not once did she ever ask her to become someone she wasn’t.

Had she not been by her side, Beca doesn’t even want to know where she might have ended up. In Los Angeles. Miserable, with no real friends, no family by her side, no hope, no future to look forward too… and no colour. Just **_emptiness_**.

And had she not wrenched Chloe away from Chicago and into her kiss to show her just how much she wanted her, _that_ might have become her future.

Chloe and Chicago, together, in love… happy… and it is that specific train of thought that empowers her presently to shift Chloe considerably closer into her body as their mouths come together with more heat and more passion than before.

Heat spreads throughout her body, deriving from the blazing intensity of their kisses and the proximity of their bodies, encompassing every single one of her senses.

The sweet _taste_ of Chloe’s lips on hers, the _feel_ of her soft tresses beneath her fingertips, the familiar _smell_ of Chloe’s perfume combined with the saltiness of her sweat, the eargasmic _sound_ of Chloe’s low humming with each time their lips meet again at a different angle and their tongues roll around together… and when she forces her eyes open, the _sight_ of the most beautiful woman she’s ever known.

Here.

With her.

From the privacy of their room and without risk of interruption, the difference in fervour is not something Beca had seen coming, miniscule as it is. It feels freeing, as though she is seeing colour for the first time all over again, but from a wider spectrum.

When Beca had initially pulled Chloe into the room behind her, every intention she’d had of going slowly quickly shot out the window. With a brief glance at her face, the obvious lust shimmering in her eyes and _that fucking lip bite_ … Beca was done for.

The door had barely _clicked_ shut behind them before she had literally taken matters into her own hands, shoving Chloe into it with a force she had no idea she even possessed.

Without even a moment’s hesitation.

With the added centimetres that her high-heeled boots give her reducing their height difference, Beca had felt this surge of power… this need to prove to Chloe just how much she wants her and _how_ exactly she wants to have her.

The frantic pounding of her heart in her chest resonates in her eardrums at least a hundred and twenty beats per minute, but who’s counting?

_Allegro_ , her mind swiftly interjects.

Her hands aren’t idle. As if they’d done it many times before now, they travel over Chloe’s body the way she imagines moving them over her music equipment; which understandably isn’t the sexiest thought she’d ever had whilst making out with someone. However, Beca knows each button and slider, every nook and cranny on her soundboard and mixer like the back of her hand. It’s as simple as that.

Music is the key to her confidence and the resolution to her inner reservations.

She knows how to turn an ordinary melody into something wholly extraordinary at the push of a few simple buttons in far less time than it would take most people. She can hear the endless possibilities in every rhythm and feel the potential of each chord progression. It is as natural to her as kindness is to Chloe.

Music is her sanctuary the way Chloe is her home.

Time may as well have stopped the moment they reached their hotel suite; it had become irrelevant, unimportant; a mere figment of their imagination. And every time their lips come together, nothing else matters.

_What use is chasing after Time when they have every opportunity of making Time run after them instead?_

The hammering of Beca’s heart intensifies with the lustful intensity in how Chloe responds to each kiss. She doesn’t rush, instead savouring the way their tongues brush together whenever the angle of their kiss changes, and she literally strokes Beca’s lips with her own. _A lover’s caress_ , she muses.

_Passionate_ is the only word that comes to mind; tender and soft, yes… and yet somehow ravenous and eager all at the same time. Chloe is an amazing kisser, there’s no doubt about that. She recalls Chloe telling Evermoist a few days back that acapella was _strictly oral_ … well, she hopes she is going to find out first-hand how _oral_ Chloe can be. _It’s all from our mouths_ , after all.

Beca closes her eyes and imagines her soundboard beneath her fingertips, familiar to her, and Chloe’s hums… one of her newest, favourite sounds. It’s all about the movement, direction, timing… and _technique_. Over time, it becomes instinctive, eventually forming the ability to learn the feel of the music.

Chloe’s voice has never failed to take her breath away.

And one of the things she loves about creating music is the transition. She is fully aware that any combination of various practises and touch is more than enough to transform Chloe’s hums into moans, whines, whimpers and eventually… into _screams_.

Starting with the bare essentials, and without breaking the rhythm of their kissing, Beca untucks Chloe’s loose black top from her leather skirt. She allows enough space for her to slide the pads of her fingers under its velvet softness and gently across silky skin the way they would skim over the ivory keys of her keyboard.

It’s an action that may not seem necessary to most, but it permits Beca the time to familiarise herself with the _feel_ of the instrument. A _warm-up_ , so to speak.

Beca’s smirk widens as the hums she hears come from the redhead increase marginally in volume, the girl still trapped between her body and the door. Greedy hands grasp onto the curve of her hips, nails digging into the material of her golden jacket, but otherwise stationary as though Chloe is undecided as for what to do with them.

_All in good time,_ Beca promises with a brief tug at Chloe’s bottom lip.

Kissing the redhead may only be a recent activity for her, but she has learnt that she can make her legs quiver by nibbling at or tugging on her lip with the right amount of pressure. Not too lightly, since her aim is to arouse, but certainly not hard enough to cause pain or to hurt her in any way.

She breaks their kiss - ignoring the unhappy whine that catches in Chloe’s throat at the loss - to journey her mouth down her jaw, all the while pressing open-mouthed kisses to the skin she encounters as she moves. Her _tempo_ ; she grins into Chloe’s jaw when the woman tilts her head back slightly, allowing her more room to play.

She has already determined her speed, slow and positively torturous, and judging from the drop in octave of Chloe’s hums rumbling low in her oesophagus, she has just found her _pitch_ , or as she likes to think of it, her _bassline_.

Her fingers walk from Chloe’s hips towards her stomach, her firm abdominal muscles jumping at the feather-light touches on her sensitive skin, before quivering with sensitivity. Like any true musician with their instrument of choice, she is memorising every curve and incline, every freckle and scar she comes across, storing it away in her memory bank for future recollection.

The beautiful sounds of the piano can be heard only on the speakers within her own mind, but there nonetheless.

She senses it in the way Chloe’s humming falters with each touch of a single fingertip; and the higher she moves them upwards, outlining individual ribs as she goes, the louder they become. The _dynamics_ of a composition, the emotional intensity that comes with it, making anyone who is lucky enough to experience such beauty… _feel_.

The emotion lurking within Chloe’s voice is as clear as the air she breathes; to the extent where it makes her heart clench tightly in her chest as though the amount of love she feels for this remarkable woman is at the brim, ready to spill over.

Pressing a final kiss to her jaw, Beca pulls away in order to catch Chloe’s eyes, which are firmly closed. When her hands skim all the way to the underside of her lacy bra, they pause, and the redhead’s eyes snap open, her gaze landing on Beca. Waiting.

_Pianissimo_ , her mind echoes, as the music all but quietens, leaving behind only the breathless huffs of Chloe’s irregular exhales as she tries to even her breathing after the dual assault of their frantic kisses, as well as Beca’s assertive touch on her bare skin.

Their shared gaze holds affection - so much of it - tenderness, and dare she say it, _love._ But still Beca waits. Permission. Consent. Approval.

She refuses to go further until she gets something: a sign, a signal, anything tangible from Chloe’s side that will tell Beca she wants this; she wants _her_. Returning her kisses wholeheartedly and leaning into her touch is one thing, but she knows how the heat of the moment works. This, them, is too darned important to risk with any miscommunications or by rushing.

“I want this,” Chloe whispers, flashing her a sweet smile that contradicted her heavily flushed and rosy cheeks. The calm manner in which the words are spoken is like it’s the simplest thing in the world for her to admit; as though there is no possible reason why she would wish to stop.

Beca waits an extra beat, just to be sure.

Those gorgeous blue eyes never leave her face, and there’s not a trace of worry or anxiety hidden in their depths. Quite the opposite. They’re trusting. She has a brief moment of curiosity, wondering whether Chloe is holding herself back and allowing her to go at her own pace. She knows she would if roles were reversed.

Beca slowly inches her hands up the remaining distance, slipping her fingers underneath the fabric of the lacy bra to cup her breasts, giving the mounds a gentle squeeze, before circling her thumbs around already stiffened nipples. Chloe shivers. And with that, the _pianissimo_ is no more, replaced immediately by _forte_ , her hums transitioning into whimpers, and Chloe’s nails digging into the skin of her hips for stability as she arches into the touch.

The skin is soft, delicate even, and very much like she imagined. It’s warm to the touch and she wonders how the sensation is for Chloe. If it were the other way around, she is almost certain a blaze of fire would be left in the wake of Chloe’s fingertips and that every chasm of residual darkness in her being would have evaporated into a haze of striking colours.

Beca’s mouth returns to Chloe’s neck and she feels another shudder whip across the skin underneath her lips, her tongue coming out to trace a long line up to where she had left her previous hickey. Recalling that it is Chloe’s recently discovered _weak spot,_ she decides to up the ante and revisit it, maybe adding a little more redness to it.

Lapping at the bruise slowly and equally just as tenderly with her tongue, without any warning, she swiftly bites down on the skin at the same time her thumbs and index fingers pinch her areolae. Beca feels her own cunt pulse alongside the unadulterated moan that permeates the air from Chloe’s mouth, followed immediately by a second when Beca promptly tugs on them.

Now _that_ is music to her ears.

If Chloe keeps it up, Beca will have her melody; the beautiful and crucial part to any song. The _tune._ Without it, the whole foundation of everything they had just built would simply collapse into a cacophony of chaos.

This is nothing like any of her past experiences, and she hopes the same can be said for Chloe too. They’ve both had quite… questionable taste in men. Jesse, as sweet a guy as he is, was pretty lethargic in bed. Missionary Man, very rarely letting her take charge, and he had never bothered trying to figure out her sexual interests and kinks. His dick never stayed hard long enough to even entertain experimenting in the bedroom.

She’d usually count down the minutes to when he’d finally cum so she could go back to her laptop. It was _sad_. Everyone she’d ever known had always talked sex up, saying how explosive and incredible it could be. She’d thought they were lying.

Between Jesse and right now with Chloe, she’d had exactly one one-night stand, which is _pathetic_ , but she was already so in love with Chloe by the time she split up with Jesse that she couldn’t entertain sleeping with anyone else.

Jordan. Just as lacklustre as Jesse, talked the talk, but lasted barely more than thirty seconds. She’d met him at a bar she’d gone to with Chloe one November evening back in Brooklyn, and that was just after Chloe had ditched her to swap spit with some stupidly arrogant jock. Jordan had been a distraction… albeit a pretty piss-poor one.

Chloe, however, is a whole ‘nother ball game.

They still have their clothes on and they haven’t even properly touched one another, and she is far more turned on than she’d ever been in her life.

She is content with the progress she has made so far in terms of the music she and Chloe are making together. But as someone who has learnt the vital elements of what it means to be a producer, she knows she needs to take things further in order to reach **_perfection_**.

Why stick to ‘safe’ when there is every potential of going further and finding ‘extraordinary’, ‘unique’ and… ‘new?

And with that thought, she knows what she needs to do.

Retaining her existing actions, fingers on Chloe’s mounds and teeth firmly attached to her neck, Beca shifts to press her body as close as physically possible into Chloe, so that all of her weight is pressed into the door. She can almost feel the amount of physical straining it takes for Chloe to lift her arms to wrap them around Beca’s shoulders, holding her head firmly against her neck as though ensuring she won’t stop her assault.

She _won’t._

She shifts her right leg, unconsciously mirroring her earlier action from the hallway, and presses it up and into the apex of Chloe’s thighs, flush against her heated centre.

_Heated_. Scorching. Sweltering. Beca can feel her through the material of her skirt, so she hurriedly brings a hand down to move the barrier between them out of the way so that her bare thigh is pressed against her fully.

Beca exhales as deeply and evenly as possible, wishing more than anything that it were her hand touching the other girl most intimately instead of her leg.

_All in good time_ , she promises herself _, this is only the beginning._

There is a very noticeable hitch in Chloe’s moans - making Beca’s legs tremble weakly – which is soon followed by fingers clamping onto her brunette locks and tightening at the sudden pressure of said thigh.

It all feels natural; her and Chloe, them, together in this way. It feels right, even, and she knows without a doubt that she wants to give Chloe _everything and anything_ in her power to make her feel special. Because she is.

Chloe grinds down onto it as best as she can with the little space she has. 

_Ah_ , there’s the _melody_.

She presses her thigh even harder into Chloe, and she almost moans with the girl at the feel of sizzling, wet heat seeping through the fabric of her panties and coating Beca’s upper thigh. Especially when the girl bends one of her own legs in retaliation, pressing it into Beca’s cunt deliciously so as to allow her some of her own relief.

_God_ she’d never been this turned on in her life as she tries to keep up her multi-tasking. _Suck, pinch, rub, suck, pinch, rub_ – her own improvised rhythm which seems to be augmenting the fervour of their tryst.

“Beca!” Chloe moans, her hips never once ceasing their movement against Beca’s leg, “Beca! Oh, don’t stop. Please don’t stop, baby. Please.”

Ah, and there are her _lyrics_.

Lyrics aren’t always a necessity when it comes to music. Or any words in general. That’s the beautiful thing about music.

On its own, music can say a hundred-thousand different words, and it can tell a millions of diverse stories. Far more than any arrangement of words, often very two dimensional and black and white; which is why Beca tends to never focus on them to the same extent she does with the rest of the piece.

These lyrics, however… she has never heard anything sound as sweet, as addictive… like honey to bees. She _needs_ it to survive; craves it, even. But in this case, it’s her own intimate chorus, so to speak; written and spoken with her, and her alone, in mind.

Chloe grunting her name, over and over, are the only lyrics she’d be happy to listen to on repeat. Every day for the rest of her life.

It is positively _eargasmic_.

Maybe one day Chloe will allow her to record them and use them to arrange and create their own personal _lady jam_.

Her moans only encourage Beca to keep going. The harder she pushes into Chloe’s centre - thereby increasing the pressure on her own throbbing cunt - the firmer she tugs at the taut nipples beneath the pads of her fingers. And the harder she tweaks them, the more she sucks at the bruise on her neck… resulting in Chloe’s moans growing in size until they gradually transition into choked cries.

The faster she thrusts her own centre into Chloe’s bent thigh, the louder Beca inadvertently becomes, crying out with her; her own voice reverberating beautifully with Chloe’s.

_Harmony_.

The final necessary ingredient to successfully create something so unique, so memorable, and so… explosive. The missing piece of the puzzle, so to speak, and yet, it’s something that has been existing between herself and Chloe for the entirety of their friendship.

From the instant they had sung Titanium together in her shower stall.

That _spark_ … she had felt it at the time, has only burned brighter and stronger over the years. It was the catalyst to her close friendship with the girl... and it’s pretty fitting, when she thinks about it. 

This _stranger_ had burst into her shower cubicle uninvited, naked as the day she was born, and Beca had literally been at her most open and vulnerable whilst singing with her.

Yet, the moment Chloe joined in and their voices harmonised, all her worries had simply dissipated. Her own mid-range vocals and Chloe’s Aguileran voice… It felt as though they were made for each other, even if she hadn’t fully understood in what capacity.

Presently, however, they climb higher and higher together towards the precipice, their gratification increasing with each erratic thrust and their movements borderline frenzied as Beca guides Chloe’s hips in time with her own.

Their desperate need for one another, this lustful desire, driving their every move and riding alongside with them every step of the way until finally… finally…

“BECA!” Chloe shrieks as she reaches her climax, Beca following suit almost immediately with a low grunt; her own climax surging through her body like a surge of bliss.

The _crescendo_ to their private song; their personal _lady jam_ , as it were… the climax they had both wordlessly been pursuing since their very first kiss barely even an hour ago.

They still hadn’t taken their clothes off, nor had they made it anywhere near to the bed… But God, Beca needs her again. She isn’t sure her hunger for Chloe is ever going to be fully satisfied.

She’s honestly okay with that.

And with the way Chloe is staring up at her from under her lids - her breaths quick and heavy as though she’d just run a full marathon - she’s pretty certain that it goes both ways.

“Bed,” is all the redhead snarls to her, and really, it’s the only word she needs to say to re-spark the motors of Beca’s insatiability for another taste of her… this time without clothes obstructing her touch, and sight… and mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW,
> 
> how was that for an explosive first time?! I loved my connection to music, ngl.
> 
> The colour imagery won't be how I start the rest of the chapters, as I said, because they all come from this chapter.
> 
> Believe me when I say there is A LOT to come.
> 
> tee hee.
> 
> I'll post every few days xx


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop Whoop.
> 
> Here's your latest update. Some more good ol fashioned smut with a lot of care and devotion. The final decision is that, after this chapter, there are three more to come. and that's that.
> 
> I could have released them all as one long chapter, but then I thought 'why don't I rile some people up? build the anticipation. make em want more."
> 
> So. without further ado, proceed with caution ;)
> 
> as always, I don't own PP, because if I did, PP3 would go like this.

_And with the way Chloe is staring up at her from under her lids - her breaths quick and heavy as though she’d just run a marathon - she’s pretty certain that it goes both ways._

_“Bed,” is all the redhead snarls to her, and really, it’s the only word she needs to say to re-spark the motors of Beca’s insatiability for another taste of her… this time without clothes obstructing her touch, and sight… and mouth._

“You’re wearing far too many clothes, M’dear,” Beca sends her a shaky smirk, hoping she looks and sounds more confident than she feels.

She momentarily forgets that Chloe knows _her_.

She knows Beca’s mannerisms as well as Beca knows Chloe’s, and it somehow still catches her off-guard to see the sharpness in her eyes be instantly replaced by such gentleness. As though what had previously been motivating their actions is no longer just lust, but something else… something - if Beca isn’t mistaken - that sounds, looks, and feels a little like… _love._

Her feelings for Chloe have been clear to her for long time; simply put, she is utterly besotted, and completely head over heels in love with everything that makes her the woman she is, both inside and outside.

But for Chloe to… _possibly_ reciprocate her feelings… well, it’s something she _never_ allowed herself to hope for.

Not even in her dreams; because to envisage Chloe loving her back just as fiercely, just as passionately, only to awaken to a world where that wasn’t her reality, _could never be her reality_ … Truthfully, it’s a form of heartache that Beca finds very difficult to believe anyone could ever recover from.

Two warm hands cradle her face gently, bringing her back to the present, and they tilt her head up so that she can look directly into Chloe’s eyes. They’re so close that Beca can easily count each freckle on the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks; Chloe has always hated them; she always tries to cover them up citing that it was habitual since she was teased about them growing up.

Beca wishes she could punch those assholes in the face. Her freckles are beautiful, _damnit._

“It’s just me, Bec. We don’t have to do anything, I promise. There are no expectations on my part for how our evening will end. I’m quite content with cuddling, if that’s what will make you happy.” Beca’s head is already shaking by the time Chloe finishes speaking.

Noticing a hint of worry in those shimmering ocean blues, Beca presses a chaste kiss into Chloe’s right palm which is still resting on her cheek. Chloe lets out a soft sigh of contentment, making Beca’s heart feel full to the brim.

It’s incredible how much stronger and safer those hands make her feel, have always made her feel; as though they physically lift her up and hold her high when she needs it most. Be it a palm on her cheek, their fingers intertwining, Chloe’s nails running through her tousled hair and scratching softly at her scalp when Beca’s head is in her lap.

She exhales deeply and evenly, her chest expanding and compressing as she steels herself for what she is about to say. _Take the risk and make the leap._

“What will make me happy is to strip you of all these damn clothes, lie you down on the large and comfortable bed behind us, and thoroughly take my time _ravishing_ you there once, and then again for good measure.”

Chloe’s eyes widen as her breath hitches in her throat, but Beca isn’t done. She leans forward the remaining couple of inches to teasingly rub the tip of her nose against the redhead’s, her hands smoothing their way across her back.

“And after that I’d take you - if your legs hadn’t turned to jelly by that point, in which case I’d carry – into what I assume is a fairly spacious shower. We’d then test out the _amazing acoustics_ several times, if you see what I’m getting at, before returning back to the bed to squeeze in a couple more rounds, and _finally_ falling asleep in each other’s arms.”

Chloe’s response is instantaneous, and pride floods through Beca’s body like a cascade of water when she takes note of the way she swallows roughly at the crudeness of her words, her eyes darkening with a blazing hunger that sets Beca aflame.

_Good lord._

Pushing herself back from the door, Chloe stays well within Beca’s proximity as she inches her backwards a few paces, shrugging her black leather jacket from her shoulders as she does so. She keeps their gazes fastened like Velcro, as though not wanting to miss Beca’s inevitable jaw-drop when she removes all of her clothing.

As though she doesn’t want Beca’s attention elsewhere.

The back of Beca’s boot-clad calves hit the plush material of their bedsheets and before she can do anything, Chloe gives her a gentle shove, silently commanding her to sit with a cheeky grin on her lips.

And she does.

With a hefty _thump_ , the black leather jacket lands on the carpet, only to be kicked away by an impatient Chloe. She coyly winks at Beca when she takes notice of the way her hands are beginning to anxiously fist at the sheets, desperate to help her whilst simultaneously wanting to watch.

Next comes her thin-strapped black top, something Beca knows she had intentionally chosen because of the way it enhances the curvature of her breasts… breasts which are now only covered by her black lacy bra, which of course is where Beca’s eyes immediately drop down to.

She can’t help it. It’s not her fault.

It’s not like she’d seen them bare as often as she hoped. If she excludes all the occasions where she had witnessed Chloe flouncing around their Brooklyn apartment, or the odd random occasion at the Bella house, then the last time she had seen her breasts properly was her first year.

After she’d started developing feelings for her, out of respect she’d always look away (as soon as she’d get her brain into gear). And that was if she’d happen to catch Chloe changing or hopping in/out of the shower; she didn’t want her to think she was perving on her and scare her away.

But there is one thing she is certain of… they are magnificent. She is, after all, a self-proclaimed _boob-man_. The way they look in all their smooth and curved glory… she will never admit this to anyone, but she does actually find her eyes lingering on them… _all the damn time_.

Admittedly, not just Chloe’s. But _women_. Plural. And Chloe is a fan of wearing _extremely_ tight tops, God’s gift to man and womankind…

She’s so distracted by the sight of Chloe’s bra-encased breasts, that she misses the removal of both her snug skirt and her sexy knee-high boots, leaving her in just her lacy black undergarments.

Chloe… has… every right to _feel confident about all that_ because honestly, she is the sexiest woman Beca has ever laid her eyes upon. Head to toe, inside and outside; with a special shout-out to her brain, heart, and soul.

Beca’s mouth dries up completely, all the fluid in her body rushing straight down to her core, and she has this bizarre out-of-body experience where she is so light-headed that she feels as though she is floating mid-air.

Eyes roaming over the vast expanse of skin available in front of her, Beca imagines how soft it is under her palms, how her body feels underneath her own, writhing and jerking, thrusting and arching into the administrations of her fingers and tongue…

She shudders. Not from the cold.

Catching Chloe’s smug gaze once more, feeling herself flush under her knowing smirk, she watches, enraptured, as the girl deftly reaches behind her back to unhook her bra and toss it somewhere over her shoulder, before bending over to remove her final layer… and _whoa_.

She isn’t quite sure at what point her jaw had dropped within the last few seconds, but there’s nothing she could have done to prevent it. She’s not _that_ strong-willed; she’s actually a pretty useless lesbian. And the sight of stunning, ginger-haired women, ie one Chloe Beale, just _does it_ for her.

And now that she actually has permission to look, she’s afraid that she won’t be able to turn her attention elsewhere… well, _not_ afraid; unbothered. Though if she’s being honest, whenever Chloe is anywhere within her vicinity, everyone else fades away.

It’s nothing new.

Chloe remains stationary, allowing Beca to drink in the sight of her lithe body as she puts her hands on her hips, giggling all the while playfully striking poses. Beca loves that their relationship hasn’t actually changed one bit. That they are still _them_. That there is all this sizzling sexual tension between them and they are literally just about to have sex… and yet, they can still laugh and tease one another.

It fills her with unexpected relief.

Chloe is more or less clean shaven, save for a thin red strip of hair above her clit; totally _not_ what she had expected, but she isn’t complaining.

She remembers, somewhere in the back of her mind, Chloe mentioning that she had booked a Brazilian before they were due to leave for the Tour. But she had been so distracted at the visual, she hadn’t noticed that the girl wasn’t just saying it to wind her up. Especially because Amy had interrupted with an inappropriate “ _I used to date a Brazilian specimen who always loved searching my jungle… if you know what I mean_ ”, to which Beca had pushed _everything_ about that conversation far, far away from her mind.

Her breasts are teardrop shaped, soft and full, with her nipples fully at attention, whether from arousal or because of the cold, she is unsure; although when her eyes fall to the space between her thighs, the answer is clear.

The slight glistening draws her attention and she finds herself dumbstruck at the undeniable proof that Chloe truly is as _turned_ on as she is.

Her breath hitches as, not a second later, fingers appear in her line of sight, firstly running gently through the sparse hairs that were there, _teasingly,_ before travelling further down to spread the folds open for her.

_Christ on a cracker._

She’s **soaked**.

This is like a real life porno, and if she weren’t so honest-to-God awestruck, she’d have been on her knees right about now.

Beca shifts in her seated position on the bed, her panties uncomfortably sticking to her cunt as she decidedly crosses her legs so as to not make it too obvious what the sight had done to her.

Catching Chloe’s eye again, Beca clears her throat, a raspy “come here” falling from her lips. She lets her eyes dart back to where Chloe’s fingers are currently resting between her legs, folds spread generously for her, before her hand drops to her side and she wordlessly obeys Beca’s command.

She comes to a stop barely a few feet in front of where Beca is still seated – and fully clothed – and the brunette drinks in the sight greedily. It’s even _better_ up close.

“God, Chlo, you look-” she trails off, swallowing roughly as the dryness in her throat makes itself known. She is thankful that she is sitting down, because Beca is trying to inconspicuously slow down her heartrate as well as force her legs to stop trembling.

She hopes Chloe doesn’t ask her to stand.

Seeing Chloe so bare and open makes her feel the stifling heat from within her own clothes all the more. She wishes all these physical barriers between them would just disappear, or that Chloe would simply _rip_ them all off her body.

_She’d had that dream once._

Good Lord, that had been the only time she’d ever risked masturbating in that foldout bed, with Chloe fast asleep right next to her. The thought of a Chloe taking charge like that, all cave-woman like, highly arousing… she’s seen the girl’s biceps and triceps....

Feeling Chloe’s gaze on her, she sends the girl a reassuring look, opening her right palm for Chloe to place her own in. She then presses a gentle kiss onto her knuckle, basking in the glow of Chloe’s smile at her sweet gesture.

She returns her attention to the area between Chloe’s parted legs, examining it with no small amount of interest and longing. It’s the first pussy she’s ever seen in person, aside from her own (and in pornos), and what a sight it is. As she had previously noted, it’s completely bare, waxed smooth, and from what she can see, both from the underside of her lips and her upper thighs, she is wet.

_Very wet._

She places both hands on Chloe’s hips, guiding the girl a few steps closer to her before halting her. Gently rubbing at the soft skin beneath her fingertips, she throws a questioning look up at the girl, cautiously asking, “May I?” to which she receives an eager nod.

She has to force herself to not pinch her own arm to check whether this is all indeed the most beautiful and unrealistic dream. She surely couldn’t be that lucky.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the whole world, Chlo,” she whispers earnestly.

“I mean, I’m no-”

Beca’s head snaps up, “Hey, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You’ve always had long queues of guys and girls wanting to date you, and that’s coming from someone who was always checking to see that they were good enough for you.”

Chloe beams down at her, tucking a lock of her brunette hair behind her ear. “I was going to say, I’m not sure that’s true, because I think that _you_ are the most beautiful girl in the world.”

One of Beca’s hands skims over the top of Chloe’s hip, around the front and down, pausing at her upper inner-thigh, her other sliding down to cup her right ass-cheek, simply revelling in the feeling of holding the firm muscle. Chloe’s ass is magnificent… especially when she bends over in leggings.

Beca carefully kicks at Chloe’s feet, wordlessly asking the girl to spread her legs further apart, which she complies without question. She checks that Chloe is happy with what she is doing, her stomach clenching pleasantly at the amount of trust she sees reflected back at her.

She inhales deeply, feeling her ribcage expand fully, before expelling her breath. She can smell Chloe’s arousal even more so from her change in stance, and she licks her lips.

_All in good time_.

“So _fucking_ beautiful,” Beca murmurs appreciatively, reiterating her earlier compliment, and if she weren’t so attuned to everything about Chloe, she’d have missed the girl’s breathing hitch in response to her explicit praise. Or maybe it was because she’d said it whilst staring directly at her pussy.

This is a dream come true; Beca has long lost count of how many times she has imagined touching Chloe as intimately as she is about to.

(Of course she had thought about it after their shower meeting; a stunning girl walks into her cubicle, naked… okay it was a little unnerving at first, but she wouldn’t otherwise protest, especially not after she got over her shock.)

Scenarios that ranged from waking her up in their shared bed in NYC by slipping her fingers into Chloe’s PJ bottoms, fingering her whilst the girl was cooking in nothing but her long-sleeve shirt and panties, or invading Chloe’s shower and re-creating their duet… whilst her fingers are working on Chloe’s clit… that last one is a favourite of hers.

With an imagination like hers, and with what she’s been lucky enough to learn over the years, she’d conclude that she has a sufficient amount of experience with masturbating. Not only that, but with the visual aid of pornos, as highly unrealistic as they are, she’s been wanting to experiment with what she’s learnt on someone else, what with the various _successful_ techniques she’d practised on herself.

However, being here with Chloe, so close to touching her intimately… it’s far scarier than any fantasy she’s ever had. And she won’t lie, she is nervous. Not so much because she’s inexperienced with other women, but rather because it’s _Chloe_ and she doesn’t want to disappoint her.

_Or make her wish she’d chosen Chicago instead._

She mentally shakes herself, chastising her inner thoughts. Chloe is here with _her_ , she had happily been kissing _her_ , and she voluntarily went with Beca despite the fact she had chosen to kiss Chicago in the first place.

She has _never_ wanted anyone more than she wants Chloe. That is something that won’t change. She needs to touch this girl and be touched by her, watch her fall apart under her fingers, her tongue, and she wants Chloe to mark her as hers.

Claim her.

Keep her.

This is their first time, and as much as she would love nothing more than for this moment to last indefinitely, she knows that if she plays her cards right, they will have forever together.

She caresses the skin of Chloe’s inner thigh, her fingers skimming through the trails of silky wetness that had clearly seeped through her panties and accumulated there, and it’s warm.

No, it’s _hot_.

She lifts her fingers up to her face, seeing Chloe’s juices coat the tips, and catching her stunned gaze, she sniffs them experimentally, inhaling their scent… memorising it. Strong, yes, and yet there is a tanginess to it, not in a bad way of course; she knows it won’t be hard to get used to.

“Bec,” she whimpers.

Since she has Chloe’s undivided attention, she elects to put on a show for her, unhurriedly extending her tongue to trail the tip up the length of her finger to collect the juice. She hums loudly in appreciation, her gaze unwavering, and Chloe groans.

Definitely bitter, but not unappealing to her in the slightest. She makes a mental note to ensure she has a proper taste later on, her head firmly between Chloe’s thighs.

Allowing herself a reprieve, she places her now-clean fingers directly onto Chloe’s clit, softly and teasingly massaging the silken skin. It was hard beneath her fingertips, much like she expected, and she takes her time to learn the different sounds Chloe makes. A whimper when she circles around her clit, a moan when she rubs directly at it, and a sharp exhale when she glides her fingers through her folds.

When she presses down a little harder onto her bundle of nerves, Chloe’s hips jerk in surprise, a grunt rumbling from her throat. She thrusts an arm out to grasp onto Beca’s shoulder, looking for stability as she widens her legs a little further to give Beca more room to work.

Whenever she’s touched herself, depending on how desperate she was for her orgasm, Beca would find that she could reach her climax very quickly just by stimulating her sensitive clit. The sparks surging through her body, the fireworks behind closed lids, the explosive pressure releasing… she wants that for Chloe, but she is determined to draw it out slowly, build it up.

And yet, she can’t get over just how soft Chloe is beneath her fingertips. There is so much wetness that her fingers glide through her folds with no resistance whatsoever; she never imagined Chloe could be this turned on by her.

Moans tumble from Chloe’s lips like the ones Beca had heard from the porn videos she’d used for research… except, Chloe’s are real. They aren’t exaggerated for ratings and likes, they aren’t for the pleasure of an unseen audience… they’re for her. _She’s_ making Chloe feel good.

She focuses specifically on her stiffened clit that is just begging her for attention, and using her pointer and index fingers, she’s rolls over it in close, tight circles.

“Bec,” Chloe whimpers again as she grinds her hips into the movement, clearly unable to resist the temptation to help herself reach her orgasm however she can.

Wanting to move things along a little further, she swipes across her clit once more before gliding two strong fingers between her folds, collecting as much moisture as possible, before retreating and repeating the same pattern. These aren’t teasing movements anymore; she is making sure she adds the right amount of pressure to her strokes, not wanting to hurt the girl by pressing too hard.

“Bec,” Chloe moans wantonly and Beca’s feels a gush of wetness from within her own panties at the amount of desire leaking from her voice.

It’s almost enough to make her forget what she is doing, she is so turned on, but she manages to double her focus and continue moving her fingers, picking up the pace and discovering _even more_ wetness than before.

“God, Chlo,” Beca grunts, clenching her jaw tightly in concentration.

_Fuck._

“Bec.” Beca wonders if she’s made the girl forget her entire expanse of vocabulary apart for her name, which again she isn’t complaining. “Please.”

_Please what?_ She wonders. _Faster? Slower? Harder? Softer?_

“More,” comes the breathless whimper, and Beca continues her rhythm, increasing the amount of pressure from her fingers as Chloe rides her fingers harder. The hand on her shoulder clamps down, nails digging into her skin through her coat as though afraid that Beca would disappear if she let go. Beca doesn’t care about the pain, she just wants to help Chloe reach her climax.

She can’t decide whether to focus on her hand or Chloe’s face, so she ends up flicking between the two, determined to not do anything that makes Chloe uncomfortable; and if that means intently reading her every facial expression, then so be it.

Okay, so she has another purpose for watching her face. She wants to keep tabs on how close she is, sue her. And judging from the frequency of her moans, their volume, and how quickly Chloe’s hips are thrusting into her fingers, she thinks she’s off to a pretty great start.

Without any warning, Chloe plops down onto her lap, grasping onto Beca’s working wrist with her free hand to guide her fingers further down to her entrance. Before the brunette can think of the words to ask for Chloe’s consent, the redhead impatiently rises and impales herself onto two of her fingers, a frantic cry stumbling from her lips.

_Fucking hell._

Chloe freezes, and Beca keeps completely still, assuming that she is trying to adjust herself to the intrusion. It takes everything within Beca not to moan when she feels Chloe’s inner walls squeeze around her fingers, and a few seconds later, the girl on her lap slowly begins to gyrate her hips.

“Fuck,” Beca gasps, her head pressing into the valley of Chloe’s chest as her eyes remain locked onto the sight of her fingers disappearing into Chloe’s cunt, memorising the way it looks and how it feels.

She gradually increases the pace of her fingers, thrusting them deeply and evenly, curling them upwards so that they scrape against her tight walls in a _come-hither_ motion. She places the pad of her thumb on Chloe’s neglected clit and rubs tight circles over it, knowing the extra stimulation on her sensitive nub will rocket the girl towards her peak.

_Thank God for multi-tasking._

“ _Bec_ ,” comes the broken whimper, and even though her wrist is beginning to cramp, Beca wouldn’t dream of stopping. So what if she has to sacrifice her wrist for the cause? It’s worth it.

Beca whispers an echoing moan as she playfully nips at Chloe’s swollen lower-lip, all the while ensuring that she doesn’t cease any of her other movements. Beca captures her lips in another kiss; this one sloppy and wet - much like the state of her fingers - whilst their tongues dance almost manically but no less lovingly; Chloe must be feeling desperate.

Breaking the heated kiss, she brings Chloe’s lower lip into her mouth and tugs on it in time to the rhythm of her fingers as she twists them into her soaked cunt, thumb stroking furiously at her clit.

“P-please don’t stop.” _Never._

The redhead shifts her body further into Beca’s, pressing as close as humanly possible whilst leaving herself enough room to continue riding her fingers.

After a particularly forceful thrust, Chloe’s head falls forward to rest on the curve of her shoulder, a plethora of ginger hair momentarily obstructing Beca’s vision.

_I love you._

_Say it._

“ _I love you,”_ Beca whispers directly into Chloe’s ear, her warm breath caressing the soft skin, “Cum for me, baby,” and with a final shudder, she feels Chloe finally lose herself.

An animalistic cry permeates the air – Beca thanks God there are no other suites around them – and she feels Chloe’s inner walls clench impossibly tight around her fingers, her pussy pulsating as she reaches her climax at long last.

Beca isn’t even the one being fucked, and she felt _full_ , satisfied even, as though bringing this wonderful woman to orgasm, working her up and driving her over her metaphorical edge, is the most incredible thing she had ever experienced. And to be completely honest, it is.

Chloe continues to spasm around her fingers, so Beca slows them down marginally so as not to over-stimulate her, and Chloe collapses into her, boneless.

A breathless and heaving, beautiful, mess.

A gentle fire licks at her heart, its flame heatless, and it does so with the utmost tenderness and care, as though promising protection from everything bad in the world.

Beca finds herself reluctant to remove her fingers; she’s grown to like the new, cosy home she’d found for them and isn’t particularly eager for them to leave that warmth.

After a few lingering seconds, she carefully eases them out, her heart constricting painfully at the unhappy whimper that falls from Chloe’s exhausted lips, presumably at the loss of fullness she’d had temporarily given her. If it weren’t for the fact that she is literally throbbing in need of Chloe’s physical touch, she’d bury her fingers back into Chloe and take care of her all over again.

She wishes she could say the words again. Say something, anything, to free the weight from her heart completely. She remembered the words she had hissed into her ears before Chloe had reached orgasm, revelled in the fact that the girl had cum almost immediately after, but for now, the ball is in Chloe’s court. Emotionally, that is.

Physically, however, that is a whole other story.

The younger woman is throbbing, aching with _hunger_ , and she is **still** fully clothed with a naked Chloe sitting on top of her… which isn’t doing much to curb her arousal. If anything, it’s pouring gasoline on it, igniting her blazing desire to the extent that it burns even fiercer and brighter than before.

The uneven huffs against her neck as Chloe tries desperately to recover her breath, brings a slight - okay, that’s a lie, _enormous_ – smug grin to her lips and she barely has the willpower to hold it back. _She_ just _fucked_ Chloe Beale into a whole different realm; her… Beca Mitchell, and Chloe Beale, aka, America’s Sexiest Woman Alive.

If her pride were tangible, she’d turn it into a sash and wear it proudly for the rest of her life; eager for everyone to see it. Aubrey would pinch her earlobe angrily insisting she remove it at once, all the while she’d cheerfully accept fist bumps from Amy, Stacie and CR, who would no doubt be exclaiming how proud they are of her.

With one hand gently smoothing over Chloe’s quivering back, she lifts her other hand – the one that she had just been using to _finger_ the girl – up into the light and, not for the first time, she gawks at them in total awe. They are proudly displaying the shiny substance of Chloe’s juices as if it were a badge of honour – a second skin – and she has a brief respite of sadness at the thought that she’d have to wash it off at some point.

As much as she would _love_ to have another taste of Chloe from them, she is resolute that she wants her next proper taste to come directly from the source. But, again, all in good time.

She shifts once more, Chloe’s arms reflexively tightening around her neck to steady herself, but other than that, remaining completely still on Beca’s lap.

“Babe,” Beca murmurs into her closest ear, desperately hoping that she doesn’t sound like she’s whining. “I really need- please- I’m just,” is all she manages to get out before she begins feeling foolish for fumbling over her words like an inexperienced teenaged **_guy_**.

_Keep it cool, Mitchell. Don’t ruin this with your awkwardness._

But it does the trick.

The girl in her lap pulls away from her immediately, eyes widening in abstract horror when she takes in Beca’s noticeable discomfort.

“Oh my gosh, Bec!” She cries out, her hands clutching at the lapels of her gold jacket and tugging at them.

Beca wouldn’t be surprised if Chloe could sense her _horniness;_ heck, she wouldn’t be surprised if the other hotel guests were aware of it from the opposite side of the damn building. She just hopes the girl doesn’t make her wait too long, lest she physically explode from all that pent-up pressure.

“I’m so sorry. You must be… _hot_?!” Chloe finishes lamely as though uncertain of which word to use. A pretty accurate word nonetheless, in both ways, according to Beca.

She doesn’t exactly want to lie to her face and say she’s _fine_ , but at the same time, the last thing she needs is Chloe feeling any sort of guilt at not having _taken care_ of her. She doesn’t owe her anything; that’s not what this - their relationship - is about. It’s not a competition.

“Hey, Chlo, don’t apologise,” she rests her hands over Chloe’s, which are still holding onto her lapels. “Please don’t apologise. My focus and attention were totally on you, and I wouldn’t have wanted it otherwise, okay? That was all for you; and right now, it’s just you and I in this moment, together. Nothing else matters.”

Beca can see the moment tension eases from Chloe’s body, it’s in the way she literally sags in relief. Maybe she isn’t the only one afraid of screwing up.

And surprisingly, it’s that thought that gives her a sudden boost of confidence.

She places a soft kiss onto the apple of Chloe’s cheek as her hands come to rest on her lower back, loving the flush that spreads from her chest and all the way up to her face. It’s _gorgeous._ Everything about her is gorgeous, though. Beca knows she is biased.

“To answer your question, I’m most definitely _hot_ … for you. You should feel me Chlo, my panties are _ruined_.” Chloe bites down on her lip with a breathy gasp, her eyes flicking down as though she’d be able to see it.

The skin beneath the pads of her fingers prickle as Chloe’s whole body shudders, her thighs stiffening as though moments away from trapping Beca’s between them… and she can’t help but drop her eyes down to watch. That’s when she notices the girl subconsciously grinding her hips as though Chloe is picturing something to rub her pussy against.

Without any hesitation, and ignoring her own needs, Beca allows her hand to travel back down the familiar path to where she knows Chloe needs her.

Both she and Chloe’s eyes avidly follow her fingers as they brush against her swollen clit, once, and then again, Chloe bucking into the action.

She’s teasing her. _Teasing them both._

She’d never been a tease in the bedroom before Chloe; taking charge just wasn’t something she’d ever been turned on by and she knows that would surprise a lot of people. It also takes a lot of confidence to push fear to the side as though it never existed, something she had been vastly unfamiliar with… but apparently, she was wrong on both accounts.

Chloe’s stifled moan is all it takes for her to end her teasing and eagerly press into her bundle of nerves with her two strongest fingers, sifting through the newly accumulated wetness and using it to massage her mound the way she knows Chloe needs it.

This was never going to be a slow or tender round. Not with the sheer volume of _years’ worth_ of pent up sexual tension. This is hard and fast, lustful and fervent. No teasing, no foreplay; _giving Chloe everything she never knew she needed._

After all, they have a lot of time to make-up for.

Chloe’s recent orgasm was bound to make this a lot simpler for Beca, less need for any sort of build-up, so long as she doesn’t do anything to hinder her progress.

The girl rocks into her fingers, holding herself up by clasping firmly onto Beca’s shoulders, controlling her own movement and pace; Beca literally being her plaything. Fortunately for the smaller girl, her positioning puts Chloe’s breasts in very close proximity to her mouth.

Needing no more prompting, she leans in and latches on to the closest one with her lips, suckling at her nipple harshly, alternating between using her tongue and her teeth, before switching to the other breast.

Chloe’s eyes snap down to lock onto Beca’s, who smirks around the nipple her lips are toying with. An idea comes to her so suddenly, that she simply has to make it a reality.

Eyes still locked onto Chloe’s, without any pre-empting, she bites down onto her nipple whilst simultaneously placing a swift, sharp slap directly onto Chloe’s clit.

Chloe cries out in surprise at Beca’s action, so she does it again. Clearly Chloe can’t take more than that because with a violent thrust of her hips, she comes barely a second later with a scream and Beca’s name piercing the air.

She returns her fingers to the girl’s clit, rubbing her softly this time, coaxing her down from her high.

_Fuck she will never get used to the sight of Chloe cumming._

When she feels Chloe relax, she becomes even more aware of the stifling heat of her clothes, making her feel just as uncomfortable as before. Aside from her panties sticking to her cunt like a second skin, her jacket is suffocating her, her skirt is stopping her from feeling Chloe on top of her thighs, and she’s pretty sure she’s harbouring a wicked blister from her thigh-high boots.

She’s apparently not the only person who has taken a severe disliking to her clothing. Before she can ask Chloe to do something about it, the girl is already pushing her jacket away from her shoulders as though it personally offends her and shoving it impatiently off the bed and onto the floor.

A smile inadvertently makes its way to her lips when she hears the irritated huff that follows when Chloe directs her attention to her skirt.

The brunette watches her urgently try, and fail, to find the zipper and Beca considers not telling her that it’s actually elasticated.

Chloe urges Beca onto her back as she shifts backwards, decidedly straddling her lower thighs, hands coming between Beca’s backside and the bed in her _hunt_ as Beca’s own travel up the back of Chloe’s thighs towards her tensed ass.

Which, of course, she squeezes.

Why wouldn’t she? Chloe’s ass is magnificent, and any second where Beca doesn’t show her appreciation for it is wasted to her.

She’s too cute, especially when she shoots Beca a cutting look, presumably because she isn’t actually helping her move things along.

It’s a glower that would have probably made anyone else _shit themselves_ because Chloe Beale rarely gets angry, but Beca has always been proudly impervious to most glares. It’s a natural talent she often revels in. Now is no exception.

“Babe,” she coos at the redhead as the girl continues with her fumbling. If it weren’t for the fact that Chloe is so utterly focused on finding the zipper, she’d think that the girl was using the opportunity to grope her.

She certainly knows where she’d prefer Chloe’s hands to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW, who else is feeling a little hot?
> 
> Gosh.
> 
> I hope you guys liked it. 3 more chapters to go now; this sure has been a wild ride for me too. It was only supposed to be two chapters. the kiss from Beca's POV and then the emotional connection... I guess when inspiration hits, it hits hard.
> 
> and don't worry. the real emotion is coming up next.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. Here's the next part, 2 more chapters left.
> 
> This is some pretty heavy stuff, ngl, but very very much necessary once you see where it's headed.
> 
> I'm really quite proud of this fic, seriously. I can't believe something that was only supposed to be 2 chapters grew into something that reached 80 pages, 36k words, and 8 chapters. I'm amazed. Ultimately, what I want to make clear to a lot of people is that chapters 4 and onwards aren't just smut, or a smutfest, as I called it. It's CONNECTION. it's CHEMISTRY. it's 7 or so years in the making, with so much miscommunication along the way, but also, it's un-rushed, for reasons I will be making clear.
> 
> It's LOVE. and love, with the right person, takes time, hard work, and a lot of courage.
> 
> anyways, this is un-beta'd, so I hope it reads well and that you like it.

_“Babe,” she coos at the redhead as she continues with her fumbling. If it weren’t for the fact that Chloe is so utterly focused on finding the zipper, she’d think that the girl was using the opportunity to grope her… not that she’s complaining._

_She certainly knows where she’d prefer Chloe’s hands to be._

Beca suddenly tugs on Chloe’s ass, forcing the girl to fall onto her with a surprised _squeal_ that Beca catches as she presses their lips together hotly, her hum of contentment vibrating in her chest. The redhead on top of her places her hands on either side of Beca’s head for leverage, but the small brunette takes control by teasingly sliding her tongue over Chloe’s bottom lip, tugging on it with her teeth, and then slowly releasing it with a smirk.

Unfocused eyes that were once the colour of the ocean - now darkened with stormy lust - stare down at her and Beca chokes back a giggle. _She loves this **power** she has over Chloe._ “There’s no zipper, babe, it’s elastic.”

Chloe wordlessly shifts off the bed to help Beca to her feet, before stepping back to allow Beca to undress, intently scrutinising her every move. Beca never thought she’d be into exhibitionism, but yet again she is discovering something new about herself.

It’s funny.

Before Chloe had entered her life, the thought of someone looking at her had always made her skin crawl unpleasantly. The leering, the lust, the disgusting smirk… she hated being the centre of attention, much preferring to be in the shadows where no one could detect her.

She never went to her high school parties, she stayed well away from the popular kids, and her clothes were always dark. _Bitter, cold, lonely;_ just like her… and her nickname: That Weird Emo Loser.

But being invisible was better than being seen.

Especially when being seen meant being judged according to society’s pathetic beauty standards and, of course, how many guys/girls someone had slept with.

That’s how she had expected it to be at Barden, and it’s one of the reasons she was dreading the experience.

But that was until she’d met Chloe - and Jesse sort of - but mostly Chloe. After all, had she not met Chloe, she wouldn’t have a family - the Bellas - and she wouldn’t have come this far.

Chloe’s attention on her, however, is different.

It’s… appreciative. Adoring. Like she may be incredibly turned on, but her intentions aren’t purely to ‘get into her panties’, unlike most young men and teenage boys who want a quick fuck and chuck. Chloe isn’t just some rando she’s picked up at the bar; she’s just… _Chloe_.

Chloe watching her so intently… is everything, and it certainly isn’t the first time. It had always affected her in some unexplainable way, and she liked it. She likes how it makes her feel. As though she were special; as though nothing else and no one else mattered more to Chloe… than her.

It didn’t matter where they were: at home with the Bellas, at an acapella party, or even surrounded by hundreds of thousands of people at a concert or festival… Chloe would look at her like she was the only person she could see.

Without wasting any time, and ever mindful of Chloe’s hungry gaze, Beca slides her skirt down her legs, kicking it somewhere to the side, and lifts her red blouse over her head unceremoniously, leaving her in just her gold thigh-high boots and lacy red lingerie.

Chloe’s nostrils flare.

Red. Hazard.

Red. Desire.

Red. Love.

Red…

Chloe.

Everything always comes back to Chloe.

This isn’t news to her; after all, she _had_ been planning on declaring her love to her after her performance… and she had admittedly worn the lingerie with high expectations for being able to reveal it to her…

But now that the fervour of everything that has just happened has somewhat cooled, her anxiety trickles back in, prickling at her skin. All of her dormant insecurities about her body, her lack of actual experience, her fears of disappointing Chloe… and of course, it all dawns on her as she is standing more or less exposed in front of the love of her life, who herself is totally naked.

Sweat begins to collect on her palms and she surreptitiously wipes them on her thighs, needing a distraction of some sort.

She has never felt totally confident in her own skin and with Chloe’s gaze so intently on her, she starts to feel shy; turning her gaze to the side and her arms coming up to curl self-consciously around her stomach.

Soft feet pad towards her and moments later, gentle fingers under her chin tilt her head up to look into Chloe’s reassuring ocean blues. “You’re _so_ beautiful Bec. _So, so, so beautiful_. Please don’t cover yourself from me. I wish that you could see yourself the way I see you.”

Beca sometimes forgets that she used to believe she was better off alone; that no one could ever choose her or love her when there were so many other viable options. After her father had abandoned her without a single regret - never once looking back at what he left behind - before starting a new family elsewhere, she’d determined that there must be something wrong with her.

She was broken; a burden. After all, there must have been some reason why he didn’t choose her, why he didn’t come back for her.

Her conclusion was that she simply wasn’t worth it.

And then there’s Chloe, right here, right now, telling her things she never knew she needed to hear. From anyone else, she might not have believed the words… but with Chloe, it’s hard not to. Not with those puppy eyes gazing so earnestly into her own.

“You’re _so utterly_ breath-taking, babe. I’ve thought so from the moment I first saw you and every moment since. I promise. And if you don’t believe me now, then I’ll tell you every single day until you do.”

Their lips meet softly, juxtaposed to the fiery hunger from earlier. Tenderness, with not a single crumb of expectation hidden out of sight.

To Beca, however, there is something lurking beneath the unbroken surface… something so very _raw_ and _real_ , just waiting for the right moment to break through and make itself known. Like a phantom in the night, she can sense its ethereal presence, but instead of coldness and fear, all she can feel is warmth and security.

And, dare she say it, _love._

It’s in the way Chloe’s hands firmly cradle her hips; holding her protectively as though never intending to let her go. It’s in the way their lips mould against one another’s teasingly, playfully, keeping things featherlight and calm. Unrushed.

And it’s in the way Beca can feel her heartrate spike like it has never done so before.

But she needs more.

_So much more._

Breaking the kiss suddenly, Beca shuffles backwards a small step in order to crouch down and focus on unzipping her boots. As _hot_ as they make her thighs and ass look - even she can admit that - they are super fucking uncomfortable and far too stuffy for her to spend copious amounts of time in. Relief washes through her body when she finally kicks them to the side.

Turning back to Chloe, a glimmer within the depths of her eyes catches her attention. The very same sparkle she’d seen after she pulled her into their kiss at the amphitheatre… and yet, it doesn’t feel wholly unfamiliar.

It makes her wonder whether it’s been there all along and she’s just been so fucking oblivious to it.

She wouldn’t put it past herself.

Grasping for something else to keep her occupied, Beca reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra, and when she notices the way Chloe is still watching her so avidly, a spark of determination ignites from within.

Before the bra falls to the ground, she quickly holds it to her chest, shooting a sly wink at the redhead.

Seeing the playful frown that Chloe throws her way, Beca giggles before deciding to give Chloe a little reward for being so patient with her and allows the thin material to drop to the floor with a soft _thud._

Chloe stares. And stares. And stares. Beca’s sure there might be a little drool at the corner of her mouth.

Quite frankly, it fills her with confidence to see the normally-assertive girl so _slack-jawed_ at the mere sight of a pair of breasts; _her_ breasts. Before she has time to even consider her next move, Chloe has invaded her personal space with her hands are already cupping them firmly, without any hint of uncertainty.

Beca lets out a _mewl_ of appreciation.

The last time Chloe’s hands had been on her breasts was at the casino last week after the redhead had pushed her to the side citing that they needed to hide. It had been a brief cop, _interesting_ , and they’d been interrupted before she could begin to voice her inner thoughts. _Damn Bellas_.

“God I’ve wanted to play with these for so long, Bec. You have no idea,” Chloe growls, and Beca finds herself panting when both of her straining nipples are promptly tweaked, sparks of lust and arousal shooting down to her throbbing cunt.

“I think I’ve got some i-idea,” she moans out. _God, Chloe’s fingers on her nipples feels divine._

Breast-play is something that has always, _always_ turned her on.

She can’t live without it.

Whenever and wherever she masturbates, whether under her bedsheets or in the shower, of course she will fuck herself with her fingers or vibrator, or solely stimulate her sensitive clit to reach her climax.

But on the other occasions where she wants to tease herself and take things slowly, try something a little different that has a slightly longer build-up… those are the occasions where she will make herself cum exclusively by playing with her breasts. She’d always found that her areolae were super sensitive… like super _,_ _super_ sensitive… it’s a different way of getting off, for sure. But in a good way.

She doesn’t need to focus on the right angle or speed, the amount of wetness she can use for her fingers…etc, she can just close her eyes, imagine Chloe sitting there with her, and that’s that. Cupping them fully, gently massaging their soft delicacy, running her nails lightly over the puckered skin, feeling the goosebumps harden her nipples… and then a variety of tugging, flicking, pinching, and tweaking… and that’s usually all it takes.

She shyly glances up to see Chloe watching her face intently, searching... for what? She has no idea. However, Chloe must find what she’s looking for if the mischievous grin on her lips is anything to go by, and she eagerly tweaks them again with both her index fingers and thumbs.

With a shuddering gasp, Beca’s knees threaten to collapse beneath her at the sting.

She needs to be on the bed, right about _now_ , and as though hearing her silent pleas, the taller girl uses her body to guide Beca backwards until she falls heavily onto the bed.

Chloe takes the opportunity to leisurely slide the final piece of clothing down Beca’s legs, before crawling over to her.

Again, nothing about her movements is rushed. But the visual of Chloe on all fours, stalking towards her like a _ravenous_ lioness to her subdued prey, is about the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. The hungry glint flashing in her eyes, the gentle sway of her breasts as she sashays up her body… the wicked smirk playing on her lips…

_Good God_ the woman needs to tone down her sexual appeal before Beca literally passes out; she’d like to make it through her first proper orgasm - at the literal hands of Chloe - in one piece.

The redhead takes her sweet time in getting herself situated; she is lying fully between Beca’s spread legs with her hands once again resting comfortably on the brunette’s heaving chest. There’s a brief lull where their gazes are locked and Beca simply… appreciates.

Her best friend, this weird and wonderful woman, her one-and-only... her everything. Beca could create symphonies that encompass the depths of her soul; she could write the most intricate words about her that will _never_ do her justice because it is simply impossible.

_How can she possibly find the words to describe someone who defies them all?_

With her body covering Beca’s, not knowing where one begins and the other ends, and fitting perfectly together as though two pieces of the same puzzle, Beca basks in the sense of completion. No single moment can ever last forever, but _this_ , this connection, this _harmony_ … Forever is only the beginning.

Without wasting anymore time, Chloe glides down to seize Beca’s left nipple between her lips, stiffening the tip of her tongue to circle over the sensitive bud with barely-there pressure.

_The tease._

She knows what Chloe wants from her.

She wants Beca to _beg_ her for more. It’s a game of how much teasing Beca can take before she snaps and demands that Chloe take her hard and fast. And in this very moment, Beca has reached the point where she’d be willing stand within a large crowd, holding a microphone and proclaiming how much more she wants. _In vivid detail if she has to._

Her eyelids flutter at the currents of electricity radiating from Chloe’s mouth and tearing through her body like a wildfire, leaving behind nothing but cinder and smoke. With one hand now on the bed next to Beca’s head, keeping her balanced, her free hand pinches and tugs at Beca’s neglected nipple for the extra stimulation.

Her sex-drive is going into _a fucking meltdown_ at the dual attack, but it’s still not enough.

Her prayers are answered when she feels Chloe’s cruel hand release her breast, journeying along her ribcage - one rib at a time. Her fingernails scrape over the skin of Beca’s sensitive stomach, causing Beca to thrust her hips upwards, before delving into her soaked folds.

Beca’s body may as well be on fire. Chloe’s fingers have ignited this once-simmering need for gratification and now she is burning up from inside to out. She never wants this to end.

With the meticulous manner in which Chloe is simultaneously lapping at her breast whilst ensuring that her dextrous fingers are firmly stroking her clit with the plentiful amount of wetness hidden within her folds, she can feel her pleasure _gradually_ rising the way someone slams their foot on the accelerator to overtake the world’s slowest driver…

She’s already so close.

“Chlo- _Chloe_!” Her hands fist at the bedsheets, needing some sort of output for the insane amount of pressure building up inside of her. There is a fleeting moment of worry, that her nails might simply tear through the fabric… _fleeting_ because the moment Chloe slightly adjusts the speed of her fingers, the thought is gone.

It won’t take that much more, Beca is sure of it. In fact, the only thing Chloe could do to push her further is to- _SHIT!_

_Fuck going slow_ , the redhead moves her hand lower and swiftly plunges one, two, and then **_three_** of her long and agile fingers into her entrance.

Beca throws her head back with a pitchy cry, startling both herself and Chloe, who stares down at her in pleasant surprise. Her cunt then reflexively clamps around them at the sudden intrusion before relaxing her inner muscles and grinding into the movement.

She’s not complaining, _no siree_ , absolutely no complaints at all from her end… So. Long. As. Chloe. Doesn’t. Stop. If she does, Beca will not be held liable for her response.

Chloe takes as much of her left breast into her mouth as possible, the flat of her tongue lapping at the bud in firm strokes, before swiftly switching to Beca’s neglected breast to give it identical treatment.

Beca has to _fucking_ remember how to breathe normally, before Chloe manages to steal her breath all over again.

Her tongue is relentless in its assault, and when Chloe quickens the pace of her thrusting - _Jesus, how strong are her muscles? –_ it becomes clear that she is as desperate as Beca is to make her cum.

She won’t lie, with how sensitive her bundle of nerves had become after her first orgasm at the behest of grinding into Chloe’s thigh, she is well on her way to approaching the final leg of the race… the all-out sprint. And sprint she does.

With a wet plop, Chloe releases her nipple and sits back, still straddling her lower-thighs; the hand that had been balancing her weight beside Beca’s head moves to firmly press down on her heaving stomach, something that Beca finds she is insanely thankful for. With Chloe’s eyes locked onto her thrusting fingers and Beca’s hips trying to match their frantic pace, she’s knows she isn’t as physically fit as her redhead, and that she will likely hurt herself, or Chloe, with the amount of writhing she is doing.

Chloe’s eyes flash to hers momentarily before -

_Darkness_.

She finds herself staring into the abyss; the bursts of colour she’d seen only moments before succumbing into a void of nothing.

Her eyes are firmly closed, and she wishes that she could force them open long enough to hold Chloe’s gaze, but she can’t. She doesn’t possess that kind of strength. She doesn’t know if she ever did.

Anxiety swells up within her stomach, clouding her vision all the more and attempting to plague her thoughts. _Chloe!_ She wants Chloe. She needs to see her. To feel her. The gleam within her beautiful eyes, her smouldering red hair, the adoration in her eyes… but she can’t. _She’s weak. Too weak._

Everything around her slowly begins to fade away, and there’s nothing she can do to stop it.

“ _Bec_ ,” she hears a voice calling to her from the surrounding darkness. She holds her breath, thinking it to be her imagination. Now that her eyes are closed, and the darkness is back, her fear is purposefully intensifying; dread that this is nothing more than a cruel dream.

Just like always.

That she’ll wake up in her bed, all alone, her own hand driving her to climax and wishing so desperately that it was Chloe’s.

_Like always._

She wants to pretend it’s real for a little longer, at least.

That Chloe could possibly feel as much for her as Beca feels for her. That she could possibly choose Beca, of all people.

A very cruel _dream._ She might even consider it a nightmare, a haunting reality of what she doesn’t have. Who she can’t have.

“ _Becs_ ,” she hears again, the voice a ghostly echo of the woman she is so deeply and irrevocably in love with; her voice of conscience, of reason. The very same voice that has burrowed itself so deeply into her heart, her soul, that she has long acknowledged that it will never leave her.

She can feel herself falling, tumbling from an unstipulated height through a shroud of emptiness; no direction, no warmth, and no hope that someone will be there to catch her. She is so used to this sensation that it’s almost as though she were greeting an old friend…

“ _I’ve got you, my love. I’m here,_ ’ the voice murmurs, and everything around Beca comes to a standstill.

There is an abrupt spurt of colour eradicating the darkness for a split second, like lightning, and gone in a flash. Almost as though she’d imagined it.

_“Bec, open your eyes for me, my love. Let me see those gorgeous eyes of yours.”_

Something swells inside of her chest, inflating tentatively like a balloon, this… determination… she so desperately wants to obey the request and open her eyes, but her body refuses to cooperate.

Her lids, like lead, are heavy and weighted; and whilst this divine voice warns her not to fall for the Siren’s song, lest it lead to her demise, it insists she take the melted wax to thwart her hearing… but her apprehension holds her back, pulling her deeper into its chilling embrace.

She is already six feet underwater; darkness and hopelessness so damn close to engulfing her completely. She is suffocating, and she doesn’t know how to escape.

And as though answering her prayers, _“I love you Bec, I love you so much,”_ comes the echoing cry.

She freezes, her breath expelling harshly as though she’d somehow fought her way to the surface and at long last, is granted with the gift of oxygen; greedily inhaling the much-needed fresh air.

She is no longer falling, that much has become clear to her. The words, like a life-vest, keeping her adrift and making her feel more alive than she’d ever felt before. The coldness that she had almost succumbed to is replaced by this never-ending warmth that encompasses her, cradling her close. Emanating from her heart and dispersing throughout her entire being like a tide of comfort and reassurance.

_Love_.

And the bubble of _bliss_ , _fulfilment_ , multiplies within her chest, and like a volcanic eruption, the pressure becomes almost unbearable and in dire need of finding some way to let loose.

With an abrupt heave of strength bubbling in her veins and sheltering around her heart, Beca finally forces her eyes open and the sight of Chloe above her, eyes shining with so much open and tender emotion… and _love_ , is her undoing.

When Chloe presses her thumb firmly down into her clit, Beca let’s go.

She clamps around Chloe’s fingers as she reaches her climax, screeching Chloe’s name as though it were a mantra, an anthem… the name of her song.

The eruption she feels within her as she cums is so powerful, and she’d never felt such intensity before, whether by someone else’s hand or by her own. The force of her orgasm has her back arching from the bed into an almost perfect bow before tumbling back onto the mattress, utterly exhausted.

Chloe’s fingers slow, but don’t completely stop, aiming to bring her down carefully and lovingly as though she is allowing Beca to ride out the waves of her orgasm in her own time.

Beca’s hips continue to jerk into Chloe’s ministrations, her body turning somewhat numb at the sensory overload. She shudders out a faltering breath when the stimulations on her sensitive clit become a little too much for her and she wordlessly catches Chloe’s eyes, silently begging her to end the _delicious_ _cruelty_.

With a soft peck to the crease in her forehead, Chloe _finally_ has mercy on her and removes her fingers, shifting so that her body is lying next to Beca’s on their soft comforter. Her freckled arm then winds around her stomach to hold her close, and her wet fingers begin tracing random patterns onto her abdomen.

_Caught in the afterglow._

If Beca were asked to concisely describe this moment, she’d use those very words. Her lover’s sweet breath like a soothing breeze caressing her skin at the crook of her neck, the delicate touch of her fingers like a beautiful reassurance that they are here, together… and Chloe’s mere presence…?

So much better than any song arrangement she could create or lyric she could write; in reality, it’s her favourite kind of mash-up.

Her… and Chloe.

Against her will, tears spring to Beca’s eyes and she sniffles quietly, but not quiet enough since Chloe stiffens in alarm.

“Bec?” she inquires, concern coating her voice.

“I’m sorry, I-I don’t know why I’m even crying. It’s stupid, I’m stupid,” Beca laughs self-depreciatively, shame creeping up her spine as embarrassment colours her cheeks.

It’s the truth. She doesn’t know why she’s crying; the knowledge that they both fit together flawlessly isn’t sudden. If she had to guess, it would probably relate to how perfect this moment is and how everything in her life, the good and the awful, led them here. Led them to each other’s arms.

Chloe’s arms.

Sweet, perfect, _beautiful_ Chloe, who has the biggest and kindest heart she’d ever seen. _Chloe,_ who wears her heart on her sleeve and who isn’t afraid to help someone who is in dire need of it. _Chloe_ who constantly brings out the best in her and makes her want to try to be the person she knows that the redhead deserves.

For God’s sake, **she** graduated _._ Her. Little Miss _I-Want-To-Go-To-LA-To-Make-Music-And-I-Don’t-Need-A-Degree-For-That._

Because of Chloe, she’d made amends with her father. That’s something Past!Beca would never have been willing or capable of doing, especially after the way he had simply up and left her and her mother without so much a ‘ _farewell Kiddo’_. She’d been bitter, _rightfully so_ , but reluctant to hear his justifications and excuses.

Chloe had sat down with her one evening in her Sophomore Year and Beca had decided to open up to her about her past with her father. She’d trusted her enough to do so. Chloe had been silent, listening intently with Beca’s hand clutched tightly in her own, before she’d turned to her with an unusually serious look on her face.

Even now, years later, she remembers every word Chloe had said to her, and honestly, she doesn’t think she can ever forget them.

“ _Life is unpredictable, Bec. We all have plans, things we say we’re going to do when we have the time. Make amends with those we’ve fought with, find our person and fall in love, get married and have kids… even travel around the world. We think that we have all the time in the world to get them done, but we don’t. There’s no such thing, and before you know it, there are no more chances. Just time wasted.”_

At the time, she’d not been able to find the words to respond; instead just sitting there, dumbstruck as Chloe’s words echoed around her mind in a constant loop. That very same evening, she’d called her father up to apologise to him.

It had been long overdue, and Chloe’s words had set her straight, forcing her to remove her head from her ass. She’d told him she loved him and that, although she might never forgive him for leaving, she wanted her father back.

And for the first time in a long time, she’d felt… free. Lighter. _Happier._

Coincidentally, that had also been the moment she’d re-assessed how she felt about Chloe; feelings that she undoubtedly knew that she didn’t have for Jesse.

Looking back, Beca still isn’t completely sure why she stayed with him for an extra two years after that when she knew that Chloe was who she wanted to be with.

Fear, most likely. Fear of rejection and fear of losing her closest friend. Fear of falling in love with Chloe only to have her walk out of her life and never look back.

Beca is brought back to the present by a gentle squeeze to her hand. “How you feel will never be stupid Bec. To me, or to anyone. Did I do something wrong? Did I move too fast or overwhelm you? Maybe-”

Mentally apologising for her rudeness, Beca presses a searing kiss to her lips, effectively cutting her off mid-sentence and stopping the girl in her tracks.

Beca pulls away a couple of seconds later, licking her lips nervously, “Believe me when I say that you did absolutely nothing wrong, Chlo,” and when Chloe opens her mouth to respond, Beca swiftly continues, “I promise.”

She shivers, unsure if it is due to the slight draft or because she feels incredibly vulnerable, knowing the gravity of the conversation they needed to have.

Either way, Chloe notices and immediately grabs at the duvet, which had been folded neatly at the bottom of the bed, pulling it over them and encasing them both in a sea of warmth.

No sooner had Chloe returned to her side after retrieving the duvet had Beca immediately pulled the girl back into her body. Without any hesitation, she entwines their legs once again, allowing Chloe to rest her head comfortably on her collarbone as her arm comes to sit around the girl’s shoulders.

_Stay_ , the word sits on Beca’s lips unable to take the final leap. _Please stay._

Beca’s free hand runs through Chloe’s messy strands, tucking what she could behind the girl’s ears and away from her face. She then leisurely trails a path along her jaw, down her neck and shoulder, before coming back up to retrace her journey.

Chloe lets out an airy sigh, and Beca presses her lips to her temple, simply lingering there. Unhurried.

“I think-” Beca trails off, anxiously biting down on her lip. Chloe raises her head from its comfortable position to look up at her, a dash of apprehension in her ocean blues. This isn’t quite how she hoped to bring it up, but it’s too late now to do anything about it.

Beca exhales noisily, her gaze wondering around the room as though hoping to find something to give her the courage to speak from her heart.

Chloe takes hold of her hand, squeezing it gently, and that’s all it takes for her to find her words.

“I t-think we should talk.” She finishes lamely, turning to face Chloe; her word choice was poor, but she’d never been very good with words in the first place.

To her complete surprise, she identifies fear in Chloe’s eyes, and it makes her heart clench tightly in her chest. _Oh shit._

Both girls shift to sit up with their backs to the headboard, still side by side, and fingers remaining entwined. The duvet is pulled up to their chests to preserve a little heat – and to cover up any distracting _naked_ body parts.

“Um,” Chloe replies shakily, “Is this a good talk or a-a-” her face crumples before she can finish her sentence, and Beca swallows a sob when she watches Chloe close in on herself.

The brunette swipes away traitorous tears that have already fallen down her cheeks and exhales shakily. “It depends on how you to take what I have to say. I’ll understand if you change your mind about this after I finish.”

Chloe’s bottom lip quivers and she turns away from Beca, closing her eyes as though needing to steel herself for what is to come.

It’s time. _No more what-ifs. No more regrets._

Beca needs to get everything off her chest; it’s been weighing her down for far too long. She has to know once and for all whether she has a chance with her. She refuses to bear witness to the sight of Chicago returning in order to sweep Chloe away from her and back into his arms. She is not going to give him a chance.

_Seize your moment and never let it go again._

She is desperate to know whether the words she’d heard in amidst her moments of darkness were just her imagination, or whether they’d come from Chloe all along.

“Chloe Be-eale,” she clears her throat when her voice awkwardly cracks mid-word.

She brings Chloe’s hand up to her mouth to place a feather-light kiss onto her knuckle, revelling in the sharp intake of breath she hears as Chloe’s eyes snap to hers in shock.

For the first time, she allows herself to hold the girl’s gaze without looking away nervously or worried that Chloe would be able to decipher her true feelings. There is no holding back any more; no more hiding.

She breathes out, “I love you,” and waits.

For what, she’s not sure. A reaction… a response… a slap to the face.

Silence. She wonders if she’d used the L-word far too soon, if maybe Chloe wasn’t ready to hear it… there’s nothing more she can say; she won’t be taking anything back. All she can do is wait.

On any other occasion where she hadn’t just put her heart on the line, she’d probably have found Chloe’s shell-shocked expression highly amusing.

“You-,” Chloe trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

“Love-,” Beca prompts as a smile unwittingly comes to her lips. This is just too adorable.

“Me?” The poor girl gasps as she points a disbelieving finger at herself.

A giggle tumbles from Beca’s lips before she could stop it, and she tries her best to school her expression somewhat.

“Beca,” Beca points to herself, “loves,” she forms a heart with both her hands, “Chloe,” and points at Chloe who is blinking rapidly.

She shifts a little closer to the girl, still holding her intense gaze.

_No more hiding._

“Chlo, I am so totally in love with you.” The uncertain gasp she hears encourages her to continue, only this time, her fear takes the backseat, “All of you. I’m crazy about you.”

“You-” Chloe blubs, her free hand coming up to cover her mouth as she cries into it.

“Yeah,” Beca chuckles lightly. “Me.” She squeezes her hand again, delighting in the way Chloe’s fingers tighten around hers with no intentions of letting go. “I love how weird you are. Like you’re absolutely the weirdest _frickin’_ person I know,” Chloe breathes out a watery giggle, “And it’s endearing, _so endearing_. You- you never asked me to change. Not once. Not even when I was being a little shit in my first year at Barden.”

The redhead sniggers, opening her mouth probably to contradict her, but Beca rests a single finger against her lips for a few short seconds before allowing it to drop.

Chloe nods, as if to say she understands that Beca is asking her to let her finish.

“I was a little shit, don’t even try and deny that. I- I arrived at Barden hating my life, hating everything about my dad forcing me to be there when all I wanted was to go to LA. And that was my plan, you know. I was going to milk that first year, do absolutely nothing, and coast out to LA and live my dream life.”

Beca swallows shakily, trying her best to keep her emotions in check. It certainly doesn’t help matters that Chloe is already unsuccessful with that regard. She brings up a thumb to gently wipe away Chloe’s tears, sweeping at the sensitive skin beneath her swollen-red eyes.

“But then I met you. Miss _I’m-Going-To-Invade-Your-Shower-And-Will-Not-Leave-Until-You-Sing-My-Lady-Jam-With-Me_ ,” they both share a laugh, the memory as strong and pertinent as ever, “And, not gonna lie, I honestly thought you were a total _psycho_. Like I was naked, and you were too-”

“-Hey!” Chloe interrupts in jest, “I told you I was confident about _all this._ ” She gestures to her duvet-adorned body, and Beca bites her lip mentally recalling her body in all it’s beautiful glory.

“ _You should be_ ,” she quotes, rolling her eyes at her affectionately, before turning serious again. “But the moment you came in on the chorus and we harmonised, I never told you this, but I felt something. There. Between us. Something _real._ ”

She gazes down at her free hand which begins picking at the covers, as though giving herself a little more time to gather her thoughts. Chloe’s fingers squeeze hers again, and she knows that the girl she wants, _needs_ , her to get to her point.

Beca needs that too.

When she turns back to Chloe, she knows the words she wants to say. “You were practically a stranger, and you burst into my shower where we were both naked and, ahem, wet… but I was vulnerable and open. And uncomfortable, I won’t lie… But when we sang together, _dude_ , it all disappeared. Everything. All my worries and doubts, problems and anger… and all that was left, was… me and you. And our voices just-” she licks her dry lips, “-fit.”

There’s a sureness in the way Chloe nods as she speaks, like she knows where Beca is coming from… as though she’s been there herself and has thought about it.

“And that’s why I turned up to auditions, heck, that’s why I chose to stay at Barden; because I felt that pull. Not to the Bellas, not to singing… but to _you_.” On the brink of tears, Beca sends a watery smile to her.

A flush paints Chloe’s cheeks a rosy pink colour and her glassy eyes remain focussed on her. “Bec-”

But Beca isn’t quite done yet.

“I got my dad back because of you, I have an actual _relationship_ with him now. With home visits, and dinners, and outings.”

She presses another lingering kiss onto the girl’s knuckle, holding her lips against the warm flesh for a few seconds longer than before.

“I don’t think I’d have ever forgiven him if it weren’t for what you said to me that day, about time and never having enough of it. You’ve been supporting me every single step of the way. From the very beginning, you’ve always had my back. You stood up for me against Aubrey; you took Jesse aside privately to scold him after he accused me of cheating on him with you… you had faith in me when I didn’t even have faith in me.”

“I’ll always have faith in you Bec,” was the murmured response and it was _so Chloe_ that it simultaneously makes her heart tighten and expand in her chest like she’s the fucking Grinch.

“I love you so much I don’t even remember a time where I wasn’t in love with you.” Beca rushes out; it gets easier the more times she says it, and the weight on her chest lightens every time. “I didn’t want to run out of time before I got to experience you, us.”

Chloe looks at her as though she’d put up all the stars in the night sky, just for her; as though she’d hung the moon, just for her… like she’s the most _damn important_ person in her universe.

“I love you so much that, in Brooklyn, I chose to wake up a little earlier than I needed to every single morning, just to make you your lemon and honey tea with a splash of cinnamon. You’d told me back at Barden, that that’s how your grandmother would wake you up whenever you stayed with her during the summer breaks growing up. And after she died, the tradition died with her.”

She presses Chloe’s hand into her cheek, nuzzling into it. Chloe’s breathless whimper falls from her lips alongside another sob, clearly not having known that Beca had _remembered_ what she’d said one time in passing.

“I love you so much that, before you, there was no colour in my life. Only darkness, and grey, and everything that reminded me of hopelessness. I saw colour because of you, Chlo, from the moment I met you, and I haven’t stopped seeing colour since. You’re everything to me. You’re my North Star guiding me home over the vastest of oceans when I’m lost, my silver lining giving me hope on my darkest days, and the sunshine to my raincloud that always fills my heart with so many rainbows.”

“Beca,” is all Chloe breathes out before she jerks Beca’s head into her for a searing kiss, and boy does she give back as good as she gets. She can taste the saltiness of the girl’s tears on her lips, and she hopes they are good tears. As Chloe’s tongue curls into her own, Beca holds onto her tightly; it’s the kind of kiss that she never wants to end.

She’d literally just handed Chloe her tattered heart, in the hopes that she will look after it, cherish it, and care for it the way Beca knows that no one else could.

It didn’t belong to anyone else. Only Chloe.

Eventually breaking the kiss, their breathing heavy and ragged, Beca swipes away the new tears leaking from Chloe’s eyes before pressing their foreheads together, expelling a long and much needed breath.

_Finally._

“I-I don’t even know where to begin Bec, you’ve rendered me utterly speechless,” Chloe pauses, collecting herself as best as possible. Her gaze lifts to the ceiling momentarily before locking onto Beca’s. "I... have waited almost seven years for you to tell me that you love me,” Beca jerks backwards in astonishment.

It’s a punch to the gut, and she wonders again whether she really had been foolish in not having told Chloe how she felt sooner. _Seven years?_

And of course Chloe - beautiful, kind, and charming Chloe - knows where Beca’s mind is at, and as though reading her thoughts, sends her a reassuring smile. “I don’t regret anything, Bec.”

“But-” _Surely she can’t be serious?_

“-But nothing. I’m not sure either of us were in the right frame of mind to start anything during our time at Barden. You were with Jesse for three years remember, and had we _fucked_ during that first year, especially after singing Titanium, I can’t promise you that we wouldn’t have turned into _fuck buddies_ or _friends with benefits_ … or something along those lines.”

She sends Beca a sad smile, and Beca has no reason to argue with her; she’s well aware that she’d been thinking the exact same thing earlier on.

“I mean, I’m sure I’d have eventually figured out at some point that I was head over heels for you, but honestly Bec, I think there would have been too much to risk. We may not have survived. Jealousy, petty fights, the stress of Aubrey in control, and then Worlds…etc.”

_She’s right._

“Besides, Bec, how can I possibly regret this? I had the chance to fall in love with my best friend over those seven years. You opened up to me more than anyone else, and I fell in love with the real you. The _you_ that only I was lucky enough to see.”

Beca inhales sharply, her eyes flittering left and right as she mulls over the words. _This is too good to be true, surely?_

“You were the best thing to happen to me… and also to the Bellas. You didn’t even know the girls and you were fighting for them, fighting for the group against Aubrey. Your dedication and passion to music, Bec… you are _literally_ music. When you were pouring over your philosophy textbooks, feeling agitated over the smallest thing, your fingers would tap on the table to some made-up beat that only you could hear.”

Chloe rattles on, not wanting to lose her momentum. Beca gets the feeling that Chloe may have had the same weight on her own heart, holding her back from what she really wanted. Who she really wanted.

“You hunt for songs with no similarities whatsoever, somehow find a connection, and then combine them together as though they were made for each other. You take an ordinary piece of music and turn it into something utterly extraordinary.” She exhales shakily. “I fell in love with music growing up; it was my safe space, my sanctity, my world where no one else and nothing else mattered. And then I met you. You became my music, Bec.”

A brief lull follows Chloe’s words and Beca takes her time digesting it all. It’s _everything_ she’d ever hoped to hear, and yet it’s so much more.

She _understands_.

And as much as she wants to lose herself in Chloe once more, now that Chloe has told her she _loves her_ too, there is still something bothering her… something she needs to know before they can move forward.

“Why did you kiss Chicago?”

“Why did you kiss Jesse?” Chloe retorts immediately, referring to the aftermath of their first National ICCA win.

Beca hesitates, before deciding to continue being brutally honest.

_No more half-truths. No more lies._

_No more hiding._

“Because he was safe.” Chloe opens her mouth, but Beca beats her to it. “I’m serious. When I said I felt something the moment we first sang together, _hell_ , when I first met you at the Activities Fair, I meant it. But you had your shower guy, and I’d see you flirt with everyone. I convinced myself that I had been imagining everything,” Chloe shakes her head slowly, her eyes downcast, “and Jesse was… easier. He liked me, he made it obvious, and at the time, that was enough. I also had no idea you’d failed Russian Lit; I thought you were graduating and that I’d never see you again.”

“He tried to change you,” Chloe argued softly, her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

_Chloe never tried to change her_ , is what she hears _._

“He begged you to wear brighter colours, skirts and dresses; he made you watch his _films_ and you kept telling me how he hardly paid attention to your music. He had this idea of what a girlfriend should be and tried to mould you into it. I could never get over that. You’ve always been perfect, just the way you are.”

Beca closes her eyes for a moment, basking in the warmth that followed Chloe’s beautiful words. No one had ever said anything like that to her before.

“Now that I answered your question-” Beca helpfully prompts.

“I kissed him because I thought I’d never have you.” Chloe blurts out quickly, biting down on her lip.

“What?”

Beca finds it interesting how their reason for kissing someone else is essentially one and the same. _Boy they really sucked at communication sometimes._

“We’ve been riding this will they/won’t they tension for so long I figured it was too late; that I was too late. You’d been pulling away from me throughout this Tour, and I concluded that it was either because you wanted that _turtle_ _producer_ ,” she spits, “or because you’d grown tired of me. And again, like Jesse showing an interest in you, Chicago was showing an interest in me… and I was tired of hurting all the time, Bec.”

Chloe brings up her hand to cover her heart as though she could still feel the pain within. It seems they’d both had jagged knives in their hearts for far too long; it’s time they get removed once and for all.

“Was I-” Beca cuts herself off, looking unsure. “Was I the reason for your pain?” She gulps nervously, already dreading the answer.

“Yes and no,” Chloe responds simply, sucking on her lower lip in thought. “You were the cause, I won’t lie. It was hard for me to be so close and yet so far from you… but you were also the key to my happiness. I kissed him because I thought I lost any chance I had with you, especially now that Khaled wants to sign you. But the truth is, I don’t like who I had become around him.”

“That makes two of us,” Beca snorts derisively.

Chloe playfully shoves at her shoulder. “I was shy, nervous, I blurted out stupid things to keep our conversations going… that’s not me. And he’s not you. He doesn’t warm my heart with a single grin the way you do; I don’t _smile_ at the mere thought of him or when someone says his name; I don’t miss him when he isn’t around.”

_He’s not you._

With the vulnerability she sees lurking beneath the surface of Chloe’s eyes, she knows the girl is about to disclose something extremely personal.

“I don’t see a future with him the way I see one with you.” Her voice cracks as another single tear makes its way down her cheek, and she doesn’t bother to wipe it away.

Beca’s heart stutters in her chest, and she has to fight the urge to tug Chloe into her so that their bodies are flush against each other. Chloe’s hand in her own is the only thing keeping her grounded at the moment, and if she lets go, she fears she will simply float away.

Beca decides to share something personal too, in the spirit of confessions.

“Seeing you kiss him was probably the worst moment of my entire life,” Chloe’s jaw drops open in bewilderment, “It’s true. Freedom ‘90 was me singing to you from my heart; I chose the song myself despite Khaled wanting me to sing something else entirely. It was my love letter to you, and I’d planned to find you after so that I could tell you in person. And then I saw you… kiss him.”

Chloe turns her eyes down, shame apparent on her features. Beca understands now. If she had known how much her kiss with Jesse had hurt Chloe, she’d have regretted it sooner too.

“It was the first time that I felt I truly understood what _heartache_ actually meant. Songs, movies, books, and TV shows could never do it enough justice, because the pain I felt… it almost tore me up. My entire world just… stopped.”

“Bec, I’m s-”

“Please don’t apologise, my love.” Beca interjects sweetly. “You did nothing wrong. Neither of us did. I mean, yes there was a lack of communication on both our parts… but we were both hurting, and we wanted the pain to stop. I shouldn’t have taken so long to tell you, and you… should have snogged me under the mistletoe that Amy purposely put up last Christmas.”

They both share a giggle, and there’s something in the air, something fresh and almost _renewed_. Anticipation, maybe.

_Hope._

The former darkness, weight, doubt and uncertainty has faded into the wake of their ship, carried away by the waves never to be seen again. The ferocious storm they’d been battling has finally receded, leaving behind clearer skies, calmer waters, and an entire ocean of unexplored territory ahead of them.

Beca leans in to nuzzle into Chloe’s nose and the silence that follows is comfortable, at last. As though after so many years of trying to find the right book, they are finally on the same page.

“So, I love you,” Beca starts.

“- _almost_ as much as I love you,” Chloe eagerly finishes as she cuddles into Beca’s body, wrapping her arms around her waist and holding onto her tightly.

Beca plays with the familiar thumb-ring on Chloe’s right hand, recalling that one time Chloe had jokingly suggested they trade their rings to officially become the _Bella Aca-Moms_. That had been what ultimately led Jesse to accuse her of cheating on him and Chloe giving him the stern berating.

They exchange content smiles, both of their cheeks flushed with an identical rose-colour.

“This is it,” Beca whispers as though sharing a secret with her, “No more boyfriends or one-night-stands, no more Amy bursting in on us unannounced-”

Chloe takes over, “no more miscommunication, half-truths and hiding how we feel, no more regrets and what-ifs because-”

“-It’s just you and me, two women who _love_ each other more than anything in the world, and who want a future together.”

Chloe is already nodding, on the verge of tears once again.

“Be my girlfriend, Chlo.” Beca breathes out at last, an adoring grin on her lips when she takes in the one Chloe is wearing.

“There’s nothing I want more than to be your girlfriend, Bec.” She seals her lips over Beca’s in a prolonged kiss, one that is as soft as the touch of an angel. “And I know we have other stuff we’ll need to talk about, but quite frankly, I’ve had three earth-shattering orgasms, I’ve unloaded my heart onto you, and I am _exhausted_. I’d love to catch some sleep with my girlfriend right now, if that’s okay with you.”

Chloe begins situating herself more comfortably on the bed, wiggling her body down and under the covers until she is lying flat, arms extended for Beca to follow suit. Which she does so, happily.

She curls her arms around Chloe, roles reversed, her head burrowed into the crook of her freckled neck, and Chloe places an affectionate peck to her temple as she combs through her messy brunette tousles with her fingers.

She thinks she lets out a mewl, but she isn’t sure. _She loves the sensation of Chloe running her fingers through her hair, it never fails to make her sleepy._

“I want that too. _So damn much._ ” She yawns loudly, stretching her body fully as she does so, murmuring a soft, “I love you, Chlo.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“Will you- will you be there when I wake up?” Chloe tightens her hold in response to Beca’s sluggish question, slipping a hand over her spine to caress her with soothing motions.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, my love.”

With that, nothing more needs to be said.

And as visions of eyes as serene as the sea and hair as fiery as the sun dance behind closed lids, Beca feels a smile play on her lips. An honest to God, _fucking_ _ecstatic_ smile that she’s sure will never, ever fade away.

Dreams are never going to live up to her reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> >Who caught my usage of Greek Mythology? The Siren of course. 
> 
> Fun fact: It's funny because I actually re-edited it before posting since I felt I had actually, technically, given off the wrong impression. I had initially called Chloe's voice a Siren's song, which whilst accurate on one hand, is also completely the wrong visual considering Siren's are sea-monsters who lure and kill their bait. so I made Chloe's voice the voice begging her to use the wax in order to keep her alive ;)
> 
> ******
> 
> PHEW. PHEW. PHEW.
> 
> the room feels as though it's raised by a hundred and ten degrees.
> 
> I think my heart melted in my chest a thousand times whilst writing this. I wasn't initially going to include Beca's out of body experience, but when I wrote it, it felt... right. Like with all of her insecurities and doubts, fears of never being loved by Chloe, and her past, I felt she needed to experience it in order to push through it. for the first time. like, she's losing herself, and yet, Chloe's voice and encouragement is what she ultimately needed to not give up her fight.
> 
> not to mention, I was never NOT going to force them to talk it all through, everything. every doubt and uncertainty, every little thing they adore about the other. they both have weights on their chest, so it's about time they clear the air and move forward. together.
> 
> anyways, let me know what you thought xxx


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lo and behold, Chapter 7!!
> 
> One more chapter folks, I'll upload it on Tuesday, let you all stew in anticipation for the climax of my fic.
> 
> This is a real sweet, and blazing (hehe), chapter, and I guess it can be considered a filler, BUT, I wanted another perspective from Chloe after everything that has already happened. This one was too important for me to not add, I'm sure some of you must be wondering about how she feels.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this my friends, get your iced water at the ready.
> 
> I don't own PP, because if I did, PP3 would have ended with my fic ;)
> 
> unbeta'd

_And as visions of eyes as serene as the sea and hair as fiery as the sun dance behind closed lids, Beca feels a smile on her lips. An honest to God, fucking ecstatic smile that she’s sure will never, ever fall from her lips._

_Dreams are never going to live up to her reality._

**~ CHLOE ~**

_Heat._

_Sweltering heat._

_Moaning, and panting, and gasping, and delicious wet heat encasing every single one of her senses. Her body thrums and aches, desperate for more… so much more._

_Deft fingers slip inside her, hard and fast, curling magically from within as they do so, stroking her inner walls with each thrust. Chloe feels a rumbling moan fall from her lips; the kind that leaves no doubt as to who is in control of her body and coaxing such hunger from her._

_Don’t stop._

_The pressure begins to build, emanating from the skilled fingers at her cunt and coursing outwards in all directions, propelling through her blood and igniting her very soul._

_Flying. She is soaring through the clouds, reaching heights she never thought possible with no intentions of slowing down or stopping. She can’t find it in her to open her eyes just yet to take in, what she knows, is a most scenic vision._

_More. She needs more._

_And she always gets what she wants._

_Lips clash furiously as tongues duel to death, bodies fight for domination as her hips rock erratically. She may not be the one in control, but she sure as hell isn’t shy in demanding exactly what she needs._

_More._

_More._

_Mor-_

Her eyes flicker open with a breathless gasp, her chest heaving with almost silent pants as her hands instinctively fist at the bedsheets.

It’s early.

She’s not even fully conscious and she can sense it is far too early for her to be awake.

The sunlight is barely revealing its scarlet glow through the haphazardly drawn drapes… drapes that she doesn’t remember closing the night before. Beca must have woken at some point during the night to use the toilet, before thoughtfully manoeuvring them enough so as to prevent Chloe from being rudely awoken with the morning light.

_Beca._

The events from last night hit her like a freight train, or more accurately, like an inundation of scalding heat. Maybe what she’d had assumed a dream was actually her memory playing everything on loop. She swallows roughly, her throat dry from disuse…

Or perhaps too much use.

Her heart pounds within the constraints of her ribcage like a wild animal demanding to be released, and she tries her best to school her breathing, not wanting to disturb the other occupant of her bed.

Her body certainly feels… _hotter_ … than usual; her back especially.

With a content smile playing on her lips, she can’t help but wonder at what point during the night she’d fallen asleep in front of a furnace.

A furnace that currently has a smooth arm wrapped firmly around her stomach and is breathing deeply into the crook of her neck. It’s not often that she’d awoken to arms wrapped around her.

Of course, she and Beca had been sharing the fold-out couch for the past two years and had even slept next to one another on various occasions at Barden, but Beca wasn’t a hugger. Unless they’d been drinking; (those were some of Chloe’s favourite mornings). Added to that, she’d been mooning over Beca since her first senior year at Barden, and thus, she had never felt the raging desire to sleep with anyone else when her heart was already spoken for.

Besides, pre-Beca, she’d never stayed the night with those she _had_ slept with, including Tom. They had all been no-strings-attached arrangements; she just hadn’t been looking for anyone long-term.

Beca being with Jesse for three - agonisingly slow - years had been incredibly difficult for her, and Chloe had of course needed some temporary _relief_ to take her mind off of her aching heart. Cue, her relatively short list of one-night-stands.

‘ _Relatively short’_ , because she’d more or less thrown herself into acapella at Barden as a way of coping, and then Beca and Jesse had broken up a month after they moved to Brooklyn… after that, Chloe had refused to sleep with anyone else… except for one time.

(She’d returned home one evening after realising that Beca had left their usual Saturday hang-out at their favourite bar super early, only to hear said roommate moaning loudly through the front door. Sick to the stomach, Chloe had returned to the bar and found some handsome, nameless guy to sleep with.)

But still, her rule had not changed: _no staying the night_.

So this… this is new. Awakening to Beca’s arms _intentionally_ around her and not being worried that the girl would wake up and tear herself away horror-struck.

_It feels right._

Her phone vibrates four times in rapid succession from somewhere on the floor and the last thing she wants is to leave this cocoon of security… so she doesn’t.

Whomever it is can wait until the sun is properly awake, and if she isn’t _otherwise occupied_ , maybe then she’ll respond. To be completely honest, there are only two people she would answer calls from this early in the morning, and the second is Aubrey. So, if the _culprit_ is in fact her blonde best friend, then by God, she will just have to be patient. Absolutely nothing will incentivise her to leave this bed. 

Not even Khaled himself knocking on the door.

Her abdominal muscles abruptly tighten when a featherlike tickling sensation draws her attention back to the woman sleeping behind her.

_Beca._

_Her girlfriend,_ Beca.

Fingers delicately outline lethargic patterns on the hyper-sensitive skin of her navel; the touch faint and unhurried. Chloe isn’t completely sure whether Beca is even awake or if she’s unconsciously doing it in her sleep.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

The first (and only) time it happened was back in Brooklyn, almost a year ago. She remembers waking up to the faint sting of lithe fingers tweaking at her right nipple.

Beca’s hand had somehow made its way under her snug tank top during the night, and Chloe isn’t objecting to the wake-up call. At all.

Quite the contrary.

The brunette hadn’t been awake at the time - otherwise she’d have most certainly reeled back in utter humiliation and never spoken to her again - but truthfully, Chloe hadn’t wanted it to end. So, instead of carefully manoeuvring the girl’s hand away, she’d remained still, leaving it where it was, whilst desperately attempting to bite back her whimpers of delight.

She’d always found playing with her nipples to be highly stimulating, especially when she touched herself; it was a form of foreplay that she simply couldn’t live without. There was just something so sensual, so tantalising in the way she’d allow her fingers to idly travel over her peaks, pinching them firmly between two strong fingers; the slight pain heightening her arousal tenfold.

And of course, she won’t lie, she’d had many dreams involving Beca waking her up for morning sex; so, this was honestly a fantasy come to life.

And what had Chloe done? She’d closed her eyes and continued her façade of sleeping – just in case Beca happened to wake up – whilst delicately sliding her left hand into her soaked panties to touch herself in time to Beca’s investigative hand.

She was already so aroused by that point, and she briefly wondered how long Beca’s fingers had been playing with her before she’d awoken, but she didn’t actually care. It had felt far too good to put it all to an end.

Her fingers sliding through her wetness with relative ease had made her toes curl and legs widen reflexively, giving her a little more room for her hand. She’d then slipped her two strongest fingers inside her cunt, resting the pad of her thumb on her bundle of nerves.

All it had taken was a few shallow thrusts of her slippery fingers, a firm stroke of her thumb on her nub, as well as a final tweak of her nipple for the fire in her abdomen to ignite and send shockwaves to her core. She had fallen over the edge in practically no time at all.

It had been so _sexy,_ and of course, it was all she could think about for _months_ after, but it had never happened again…

_Until now._

Without any warning, her mind is taken back to her most recent dream; how hot she had felt in the midst of it, the residual wetness she can still feel accumulated between her clenched thighs, begging her to tend to it, and she could… or she could wait and see what Beca’s hand is going to do.

After what had happened between them the night before, she knows Beca wouldn’t have any qualms about her taking advantage of her hand; now that they’re together, that is. And knowing Beca as well as she does, she’d most certainly have been a willing participant this time round.

But a tired Beca is a grouchy Beca.

The last thing she wants is to be the cause for her – _adorable_ – morning grumpiness, especially since it’s their last day before everything changes... but she pushes that thought to the side for now, preferring to stay in the present.

So, much like the last time, Chloe decides that she’ll try and keep as quiet as possible… and then maybe tell Beca all about it when she’s fully awake.

She grins widely at that. Beca would either be devastated that she missed it or politely _demand_ that Chloe recreates the scenario with her… second by second.

Chloe will be happy whichever direction her girlfriend’s hand unconsciously decides to move, whether up towards her breasts, or down to her swollen cunt. Hopefully it moves before she gets impatient.

Evidentially, she needn’t have worried.

Beca’s fingers tickle the skin just beneath her bellybutton one last time, making Chloe bite down hard on her lower lip, and they slowly journey downwards to where she needs them most.

_God the girl is a tease, even in her sleep._

Chloe’s right hand grasps blindly behind her for Beca’s hipbone, their bodies flush against one another, as her own left hand comes up to play with her straining nipple. Waiting. Silently urging Beca’s hand to move faster.

She considers scrapping the whole thing and diving beneath the covers to have her wicked way with Beca instead… but it’s a little too late for that. Her body is lightly thrumming and Beca’s touch is like flames licking at her skin, but she isn’t afraid of getting burned. Oh no, she wants to be engulfed in the intensity, consumed from head to toe.

The questing fingers pause at her pubic bone, circling barely-there, teasing touches to the sensitive area, and Chloe pinches her areola _firmly_ to make-up for Beca’s slowness _,_ unable to resist mewling.

_Move your damn hand, Bec. Fuck me!_ The words a repetitive mantra echoing wildly in her head. They’re on the tip of her tongue, so desperate to be heard by the person they are aimed at, and yet they refuse to part from her lips. It’s as though her body had made up her mind for her; to enjoy the leisureliness of the foreplay and **_not_** rush it. To bask in the sweltering bonfire of her sexual needs and allow Beca to add the gasoline at her own pace.

She startles at the gentle kiss placed on her curve of her shoulder, followed by another, until she feels a wet trail of kisses gradually journey up towards her earlobe before warm lips envelope it.

A deep exhale into her ear makes her shiver from head to toe, and she sucks on her lower lip to distract herself.

“I’m feeling a bit of déja vu, babe,” comes a husky murmur, and Chloe gasps at the implication.

_Beca knows._

She opens her mouth to respond – maybe even apologise – but Beca quickly manoeuvres her thigh so that it separates Chloe’s legs, creating enough room for her hand to settle itself snuggly against her pussy.

Their moans echo loudly in the room _._

Melody.

Symphony.

_Harmony_.

“Babe you’re soaked,” Beca rasps into her ear as she rolls her wet fingers over Chloe’s clit. Chloe grinds into the movement as Beca slides them through her swollen lips once, then twice, before slipping two into her pussy and curling them dexterously. Deliciously.

_Shit, she’s good at this._

Closing her eyes firmly, she exhales breathy expletives as Beca plays her like a finely tuned instrument. Magical fingers indeed.

How the hell is Chloe supposed to respond with words when she is reduced to nothing more than indecipherable grunts and whines. Beca is _talking dirty_ to her; her mental dictionary has all but dissolved into a dark cloud of smoke and a pile of ash.

“Last time this happened,” the brunette husks, “my fingers were teasing your nipple and you were fucking yourself the way that I am currently fucking you _.”_ She twists her fingers in time to her words and Chloe feels herself tremble with pent-up desire. _Holy Christ._

Her cunt clenches tightly with each pump and twist of Beca’s fingers, her hips rocking erratically into the motion. Her hand that had been clutching at Beca’s hip is now firmly holding the brunette’s head against her neck - _loving_ the attention she is receiving from her lips - whilst her other is still occupied with toying her nipple.

The pressure is rising in her lower stomach as each stroke is quicker and deeper than the last, and when Beca adds her thumb to the mix, circling her clit firmly in time to her thrusts, Chloe knows she is done for.

Her back curves into an almost perfect arch as Beca’s fingers follow the movement, bringing her closer and higher, whilst the wet sloshing noises echoing sinfully within the confinements of their room are so utterly _filthy_ to her ears.

“You woke up so horny for me,” she snarls lowly into her ear, biting down roughly on Chloe’s earlobe, and God, the sting combined with the pace and ferocity of her thrusts creates a sensory overload that she can’t quite cope with.

“I love you Chlo, cum for me,” and like some sort of trigger releasing a tightly coiled spring, she cries out Beca’s name as her orgasm hits, her spasming pussy forcing Beca’s fingers to stay submerged, still curled into position as she lets go.

The Earth could have halted on its axis for all she knew; her own world – comprising of just herself and her lover – is immersed within a plethora of dazzling colour for as far as the eye can see. The spark that had been ignited at the trigger pulses outwards from her core all the way to the tips of her finger and toes.

She is powerless to resist it; the hands of bliss cradling her body protectively and guiding her to someplace where freedom and serenity walk side by side, beckoning Chloe ever closer.

Minutes pass, maybe even hours.

Time is all but lost to her. It’s fickle; never constant, never dependable, and relentlessly unpredictable. It becomes merely a figment of her imagination the longer they remain holed up, far away from everything and everyone. The outside world could cease to exist for all she cares; the only person she wants to be with is right next to her, holding her tightly. Where she was always meant to be.

Her heart is weeping with so much unrestrained bliss and elation, she can’t help but feel utterly, utterly content.

After so many years of patiently waiting, watching the love of her life in a relationship with someone else, supporting her and having her back throughout all her hardships and heartbreaks - despite her own pain - she has the one thing she never thought she’d be privileged enough to receive.

The heart of the woman of her dreams.

That this beautiful, talented, and utterly astonishing woman… loves her back… it’s something that her dreams were made of. 

She’d wished for Beca. Upon every shooting star, every birthday candle she’d blown out, every time she closed her eyes… she wished for Beca to love her back.

And now that it’s her reality… well, it’s overwhelming to say the least.

She remembers every single word they’d spoken to each other the night before, all of it. Beca had vocalised them from her heart; vulnerable, open, and terrified. As though she’d wanted nothing more than for Chloe to be there to catch her afterwards.

In other words, that had been the **_real_** _Beca Mitchell_. The Beca Mitchell that was, more often than not, hidden beneath all her dark eyeliner, snark, and quick-witted sarcasm. The Beca Mitchell that Chloe had fallen in love with during their Barden years, and every day since.

When Beca had admitted to falling in love with her all those years ago, she’d felt her heart stutter in her chest. She couldn’t believe she was hearing the very words she’d only ever heard the girl say to her in her dreams. And when she’d sensed a tinge of regret and sadness in Beca’s tone, Chloe knew she had to step in and reassure her.

Chloe was being completely truthful when she’d told the girl that something about her had captivated her from the very instant she’d first saw her. She’d known, then and there, that the younger brunette would somehow and in some way change her life. Call it fate, destiny, or whatever else; she just knew.

Before Beca had entered the picture, her life had revolved around music. Around the Bellas, singing acapella, being with her friends, partying, and of course, drinking.

She wasn’t proud of it, but that’s how it had always been.

After Beca? Everything had changed.

She had been showering with Tom, intending to have him fuck her after a long and stressful day of Aubrey’s whinging. And yet, the moment Beca had entered the bathroom, singing _Titanium_ of all songs, something within her had… shifted. 

Tom may as well have just dissolved into thin air, because this _literal angel_ suddenly had her full attention.

She didn’t know what she’d felt for Beca at the time; she wasn’t exactly bisexual, but she had been open to trying new things; _experimenting_. No other girl had ever caught her eye the way Beca had, especially as she was stood in front of her completely in the nude.

She wasn’t a sexual predator. She could respect the fact Beca was uncomfortable and, of course, the last thing she wanted was Beca feeling as though she needed to blow her rape whistle on her.

She had eyes, and without a doubt, the girl was utterly gorgeous. She’d always had this secret _kink_ for tattoos, not like an abundance of them though, like sleeves. Hers were _sexy_ , and Beca’s praying mantis matching with her ladybird … even _sexier._

Had she wanted to sleep with the girl? Absolutely, no hesitation there. For God’s sake, she’d touched herself in the privacy of her own room for weeks after just thinking about their duet.

Would that have potentially ruined any chances of getting to know the girl, especially if Beca had woken up the morning after regretting it? Yes. And had she been planning on getting Beca to audition for The Bellas? Without a doubt.

All in all, the amount of time it took to get to know one another couldn’t ever be considered _a_ _waste_ because the alternative was far crueller. Losing Beca from her life completely. She doesn’t even want to imagine a world where she might not have had the chance to fall in love with this kind and remarkably talented woman.

She finds it _funny_ – albeit the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard – that Beca had mentioned her having brought colour into her life, because the girl clearly doesn’t realise what she herself had brought into Chloe’s.

_Music_.

She had grown up with it, of course. She’d learnt to love and appreciate its impact on her life and her emotional wellbeing. When she was feeling alone, it transported her to another world; one where she could live without fear of being rejected or bullied because of who she was.

One where she felt _stronger_.

Lyrics told a story - whether of love or heartbreak, strength or weakness, or simply just existing - and the words never failed to touch her, resonate with her.

But Beca is the reason she fell in love with it all over again.

She had helped her understand that music was far more than just catchy melodies and soulful lyrics thrown together.

It was so much _deeper_ than that.

“ _It shows us what we want it to show us, and yet, music touches us in ways words can never do so.”_ Beca had thoughtfully said to her one evening.

They’d been sat in the brunette’s attic bedroom of the Bella House - during her first super-senior year. The girls had been planning for various upcoming rehearsals when the topic had been broached. And Chloe being Chloe had wanted to know more about the inner-makings of Beca _Effin_ Mitchell, resident bad-ass of the Barden Bellas.

She’d listened intently to her, as per usual. She always loved listening to Beca talk about music; the genuine passion in her voice is something very few people get to see, even now. The way her eyes would just… light up. It was a side to her that _none_ of the other Bellas were privy to.

Only her.

It continuously baffled her that, out of every other person Beca could have picked, she’d chosen _her._ Beca opened up to _her_ ; letting _her_ – and only her – into her world.

_“Words are simply that; what we see, read, and hear. They are tangible, in a way, but people often have to read between the lines to understand their implications. It can often be black and white, and other times, ambiguous. Music, however, tells a story that words cannot; it encompasses words the way pictures encompass words.”_

Beca had then turned to look at her, head tilted at a slight angle as though trying to find the right words to say what she truly felt.

_“A picture is worth a thousand words the way music is worth a book. The harmonies, rhythms, beats, tempo, the instruments used… all of it, makes us **feel** , regardless of whether there are written lyrics that go with it. Music needs nothing else to make it felt by us. Think about it like this. A movie needs music so that the audience can feel the emotion in a scene, connect to what they’re watching. But music doesn’t need a film to be felt; it just needs to be heard.”_

It had been eye-opening, so beautifully worded, that Chloe will forever be thankful for Beca shining a light on music in a way she had never considered before. For seeing the true beauty in it that perhaps no one else, aside from Beca, saw. It makes her feel special; that she gets the chance to experience it all with Beca.

To Chloe, Beca is, and always will be, _her music_.

That’s something that will never change.

And from the deep and heavy breaths she can feel against her neck, she can assume Beca has returned to her dreamworld, both arms holding Chloe closely to her body.

She feels her eyelids getting heavier by the second, and with Beca on her mind - like always - it doesn’t take long for her to re-enter her slumbering world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohmygosh, ohmygosh.
> 
> Who else is feeling highly emotional right now? albeit, slightly hot, but definitely emotional.
> 
> Beca is Chloe's music, I'm still sobbing. I think Beca is better with words than she thinks though... or maybe that's just me XD
> 
> We've almost reached the end of our journey, our Bechloe kiss and everything that happened after.
> 
> I've enjoyed this, and I know there are some who aren't reading WIPs until they've been finished. I feel for you guys, I do that too. so I hope it lives up to your expectations.
> 
> Until Tuesday, folks.
> 
> Let me know what you think xxx


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp folks, I present to you the final chapter.
> 
> Not gonna lie, but I feel so damn emotional right now. This has been one rollercoaster of a fic that escalated simply from receiving our long-awaited bechloe kiss, into something so much deeper, so much more emotional... and so much more... real.
> 
> I'm glad I separated this fic into manageable chunks, Lord knows I keep editing and amending up until I get frustrated with myself for being too picky and just post it. This whole fic is roughly 39,000 words. Holy crap.
> 
> I hope this lives up to your expectations and gives you all a sense of closure with regards to my story.
> 
> unbeta'd

_It had been eye-opening, so beautifully worded, that Chloe will forever be thankful for Beca shining a light on music in a way she had never considered before._

_And to Chloe, Beca is and always will be her music._

_Her eyelids are getting heavier by the second, and with Beca on her mind, it doesn’t take long for her to re-enter the slumbering world._

**~ Beca ~**

_Warmth._

Palpable and emotive warmth. Like a heated blanket enfolded around her fragile body, keeping her safe and secure; away from the cold, away from the bitter darkness… away from the unkind memories that conceal themselves within every shadow.

_Love._

An all-encompassing psychological and spiritual sanctuary where hatred and deceit are shunned, barred from entry; and where fear and uncertainty are delicately nurtured and cared for, protected from anything and everything that could possibly cause them harm.

Beca’s eyes slowly flicker open. Exhaling noiselessly as a yawn forces its way through her mouth, she then stretches her stiff body - back automatically curving into a bow - with a low, relieving moan. Her bleary gaze sweeps around the suite, from the beige walls to the scenic artwork dotted around; for the expensive room that it is, it certainly lacks a sense of homeliness.

The sunlight makes its presence known through the slits in the drapes… and it takes mere seconds for Beca to remember where she currently is.

And exactly _, who_ she is currently with.

Bare skin pressing delightfully against her own, shrouding her in heat from head to toe; and hair as vibrant as autumn leaves billowing in the blustery breeze. Captivating blue eyes, now concealed from sight, that oft reminded her of sailing over tranquil oceans, sun reflecting upon its surface like glimmering diamonds in the rough.

Simply put, Chloe Beale is the most beautiful and generous woman she has ever known, and Beca unequivocally believes that the Gods must have carved her from perfection and placed her on this planet for some unknown humanitarian purpose. With a heart as big as hers, it would be of no surprise at all.

Chloe gives and gives and gives with everything that she is, and not once does she ask for anything in return from anyone.

More than that, Beca’s heart beats to the very rhythm that is _Chloe_. It belongs to her.

All of it.

She doesn’t want it back, ever; and in return, Chloe had given her something even more precious.

Her very own.

And to Beca, there will never be a greater gift than that; and it is one she will love, cherish and protect for the rest of her life, their lives. Ultimately, she is determined to prove to Chloe that her heart is safe in her hands; that she will never do anything to betray that trust or hurt her.

With her soft gaze on Chloe’s sleeping body, she can’t resist the smile tugging at the corner of her lips as her mind takes her back to everything that has happened between them; processing and remembering and relaying it over and over again, like a movie on repeat.

She hates films; _despises_ them in reality and tends to avoid them like the plague, but fortunately for Chloe, _this_ _one_ is by far her favourite. Maybe a little too pornographic for most people’s tastes, but what can she say; Chloe manages to coax out her inner sex-starved-self from its shell.

She had once told Beca how _fickle_ – she never thought she’d be the kind of person to use ‘fickle’ in a sentence – Time is; limitless even. Time had escaped her the instant she’d first kissed Chloe, and right now, she certainly can’t recollect how long had passed since she’d sensed her girlfriend was awake… and in dire need of a helping hand that Beca had been more than willing to provide. 

She’d started with small, feather-light caresses to the skin of Chloe’s stomach, identical to what she’d done on that one occasion back in Brooklyn… and she can recall every single second of that particular morning like the back of her hand.

It has been permanently _imbedded_ into the very walls of her memory, inscribed using the finest ink, and ensuring that she doesn’t forget even the most minute of detail.

Of course, at the time, she’d been aware that Chloe hadn’t known she was awake. She’d felt brave, braver than normal. Chloe had looked particularly delectable that morning, and Beca was testing the waters, so to speak. She’d taken a page out of her book and _experimented_.

Her hand had then ever-so-carefully slipped under her thin tank, along the smooth ridges of her toned stomach, and journeyed up to a soft and supple breast; all the while listening carefully for any change in breathing.

What she hadn’t been expecting was for Chloe to fuck herself there and then, with Beca’s fingers still teasing her nipple. That had been… an extremely _pleasant_ surprise. She’d kept up pretences remarkably well by feigning sleep – secretly watching Chloe’s working hand from the corner of her eye - even though the other girl’s eyes had been firmly shut.

More than anything, she’d hoped that Chloe might bring it up at some point after, but she never did. And so Beca had reluctantly kept quiet about it…

Up until she’d found the courage to fuck Chloe mere hours ago, in the early morning light; taken her the way she’d dreamt of doing since their unspoken tryst Brooklyn. It had been _glorious._

Keeping her adoring gaze on her sleeping girlfriend, her heart swells at the sight of Chloe curled up into her body, very much unconscious to the world.

_Her literal angel._

She traces a single finger over the bare flesh of her freckled shoulder, a barely-there touch, not wanting to rouse her from her dreams. She instinctively pushes stray strands of messy hair behind the girl’s ear and away from her face, basking in Chloe’s natural radiance.

“ _True love is a sacred flame that burns eternally-_ ”

For someone who usually has a hard time finding the right words in certain situations, she finds it remarkable how Chloe’s mere presence is all it takes for them to come naturally to her. These specific ones, however, had been supressed in her mind for far too long; intentionally locked away and buried.

“- _and none can dim it’s special glow or change its destiny_.” She pauses in her recitation, leaning down to press a loving kiss against Chloe’s temple.

_“True love speaks in tender tones  
And hears with gentle ear,  
True love gives with open heart  
And true love conquers fear._

_True love makes no harsh demands  
It neither rules nor binds-”_

Beca’s breath catches when she takes notice of two ocean eyes blinking up at her, enchanted by her words. Keeping their gazes entwined, she finishes the final line with a serene, albeit slightly bashful, smile grazing her lips.

_  
“-And true love holds with gentle hands, the hearts that it entwines.”_

Chloe exhales a long and shaky breath; her eyes shimmering as though on the brink of tears and utterly moved by what she’d just heard.

“Where did you-?”

“My father,” Beca huffs out a laugh, “surprisingly.”

Chloe playfully slaps her stomach, a gentle reminder for her to be kind with regards to her father.

“ _Oww_ ,” Beca whines, shaking her head in jest. “Okay, okay. The truth is, he never read bedtime stories to me as a kid; it was always poems. Any century, any poet, any genre, and one time, he read this particular one by Helen Steiner Rice, and I… I loved it so much that I made him recite it to me almost every night.”

She chuckles lightly when she feels a delicate kiss being placed onto her collar bone as a warm hand smooths over her stomach; an offer of support.

Beca appreciates it.

“It’s the one thing that we actually ended up sharing, this mutual love for poetry. I’ve never been very good at expressing myself with words alone, but I found that poetry was more than that. The rhythm, tempo, beat, musicality, I resonated with it… and after my dad left, he took my love for it with him. This is actually the first time I’ve recited the poem since… so yeah.” She turns her head away shyly, a gentle flush spreading to her cheeks and ears. 

“I loved it, Bec. The words were so beautiful. It’s hard to believe that you’re _bad_ at expressing yourself when you recite something as touching as that to me!” She playfully scolds her, the understanding in her eyes accentuating her sincerity.

Beca flushes darker. “I am,” she weakly insists, “just maybe not all the time, since music reaches out to me a lot more.” She sucks in a long breath, readying herself to broach the sore subject of her past. “You know, after my dad left us, and my world lost its colour, I felt more alone than ever.”

Chloe’s arms tighten around her, a reassurance of sorts that Beca now has _her;_ that she is no longer alone.

Beca’s eyes flicker up to the ceiling, her vision blurred by unshed tears. She can’t help but feel so damn emotional, albeit utterly thankful, and it’s all because of the woman at her side. Her best friend. Her girlfriend. The love of her life.

The woman she plans on spending the rest of her days with.

With a breathy sigh, she divulges something that she’d never revealed to anyone else. “You know, I lied to the girls about the headphones being my first ever tattoo.”

“It wasn’t the first?” Chloe’s eyebrow raises inquisitively, masking her surprise with a carefully neutral expression.

“No,” she snorts, eyes glued to the ceiling. “Nor was the praying mantis.”

“The flowers on your shoulder?”

Beca shakes her head, and raises her left arm, pointing at the words inscribed onto her skin above her headphones tattoo, her fingers reverently outlining the ink.

“ _Ce n’est pas moi.”_ She swallows roughly before sucking on her teeth. “ ** _It is not me_**. I had it done a few months after he left us, and it was a reminder to myself that it was _not_ my fault. That the anger and resentment, the hurt and the bitterness that was driving me… it wasn’t me; it wasn’t who I was.”

Beca falls silent for a short moment, losing herself in the comfort that those words always provide her. Although visibly on her skin for anyone to see, they had essentially been tattooed onto her heart. Words that may not mean much to anyone else, but that mean the absolute world to her and her alone.

They had been her motivation right up until Chloe had taken over; but that doesn’t mean Chloe had taken away from their significance, quite the contrary. She encompassed everything they represented, and had sought to provide Beca with her own strength to help lift her up.

“I wish I had known, at the time, that my future was something worth looking forward to. That things were shit, but they wouldn’t always be shit. _Tomorrow, a place with more suns in the sky than you can count. A place not like today or yesterday, a place where things are better_.”

Beca glances back at Chloe, raising a hand to swipe away her girlfriend’s fallen tears as the girl sniffles loudly. She _loves_ how intensely Chloe feels things, feels someone else’s pain as though it were her own. It just keeps proving how _human_ she really is.

Burying her face into Beca’s side, she exhales unsteadily. “Where’s that quote from? I’ve never heard it before.” She pauses for a brief second, “I love that it doesn’t discredit what we feel today or felt yesterday, but rather whatever it is we do feel, tomorrow is a new day, and something to look forward to.”

Beca remains quiet, allowing her girlfriend the chance to finish speaking her mind as she entwines their fingers together, squeezing gently.

“I wish I had known that when I was growing up. I think, I think it would really have helped me a lot,” Chloe’s eyebrows crinkle as a spark of hurt flashes in her eyes, gone in an instant.

That’s another thing most people don’t know about Chloe Beale.

Beyond her huge heart, charming personality, and Goddess-like beauty… she has fears and flaws just like anybody else; has felt hurt and agony just like anybody else. Whether at the hands of bullies, her family, society… she is strong, so _damn_ strong, and not once does she ever let someone else’s words define who she is as a person.

Beca lays a soft kiss into the crease on her forehead, lingering there for a few moments, not wanting to see Chloe frown for any reason.

“It was from a film I saw a few years back when I was babysitting my step-siblings. I can’t remember the name, but that quote stayed with me. If I’m not mistaken though, it was about cavemen, and the main female character had daddy issues too…” Beca sniggers at the similarities she identifies when thinking about it.

From her recollection, the female character was stubborn, determined to forge her own path away from that of her father, and ends up falling in love with someone who defies everything she’d ever known and believed in.

Just like Beca.

Chloe tilts her head to capture Beca’s lips in a searing kiss.

She melts into it without thinking, and once again they both fall into each other’s familiar embrace, lost to the world around them.

It’s amazing how she can share so many kisses with Chloe over a short period of time and just… it never gets old. Every time they part to change the angle of their lips only to reconnect and recommence the kiss, it’s just as jaw-droppingly intimate as the last. So full of passion and ardour, and she never wants it to end.

Minutes – or hours – later, Chloe breaks away from the kiss to slap at her stomach… again, Beca whining in protest at the unnecessary assault.

“I can’t believe you were totally pretending to be asleep when you fingered me earlier on. How did you even know I was awake in the first place?”

“You were moaning in your sleep, babe,” Chloe blushes as Beca’s smirk widens almost comically, “I’m pretty sure you woke up because of all the _hotness_ in your sexy dream and it was like a sixth sense thing; I just knew you were turned on. So I helped you out like the caring and thoughtful girlfriend that I am.”

“And what about that _other thing_?!” Chloe’s voice rises an octave as though unsure whether Beca might be angry about Brooklyn.

“You mean back when you _finger-fucked_ yourself as I played with your tit?” Chloe gulps, nodding anxiously as she gnaws on her lower-lip. “Dude, I was as guilty as you were, considering I was awake the whole time! I thought it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen, until this morning of course. I was so turned on I almost slipped my own hand into my panties to take the edge off.”

There is a moment of heavy silence; but it’s not uncomfortable or tense.

It’s sizzling; and she finds herself wondering which of the two of them is about to douse the embers with gasoline.

Chloe opens her mouth to respond, but a firm knock on the door interrupts them.

Both girls share a confused look, not knowing what else to do. They weren’t expecting any visitors and the only person who knows where they are is Amy, since she was the one who purchased the room.

And Amy _never_ knocks.

Without further ado, Beca jumps off the bed and throws on a complimentary dressing gown to cover her nude body. She gestures for Chloe to stay quiet, before partially opening the door, making sure that whomever it is doesn’t see a very naked and thoroughly satiated Chloe lying on the bed in full view.

_Chicago?_

“Um, hi!” He clearly wasn’t expecting to see Beca if his flustered state is anything to go by.

Beca sighs irritably, pulling her gown tighter across her chest; she doesn’t have the patience for this right now.

“What are you doing here?” Beca sharply cuts to the chase, taking pleasure in watching the normally well-put together man flinch at her tone.

_He’s clearly never dealt with an angry Beca Mitchell before._

He catches himself and stands up tall, staring her down. “I’m looking for Chloe, actually. I was told she’d be in this suite.” His tone left no room for discussion. _It’s a challenge_. His eyes are locked on hers as though daring Beca to tell him otherwise.

“Why are you looking for her? And who did you speak to?” _She’s going to kill Fat Amy._

“Well, I-I texted Chloe earlier, but she didn’t respond, so I went by her old room only to find it empty.” He clears his throat when Beca’s right eyebrow raises incredulously. “I checked with the receptionist and she told me that Chloe was no longer using her initial hotel room, and that this suite had been booked by a ‘ _Bhloe’_ , so I assumed she meant Chloe. And here I am.”

He smiles _charmingly_ , but there is an underlying flicker of distrust lurking within the depths of his eyes that Beca notices almost immediately.

_Good._

His posture, with how imposing he makes himself look as he towers over her, tells her that he is using his height as an intimidation strategy… so she stands firm; she’s not about to give in to him. He can make as many assumptions about her as he wants, but _backing down_ is not something Beca Mitchell is known for.

Especially in the face of someone she considers a _threat._

“You still haven’t explained why you’re looking for her.” She sharply points out, so tired of this _bullshit_ already.

_What is it with men never answering the simple questions?_

“Well, if you must know, I’m here to check that she is okay. I was getting worried about her.” _Bullshit_. “You interrupted our kiss very suddenly and _selfishly_ pulled her into one with you. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but that was extremely rude of you. I want to speak to her and see if she’d be interested in continuing where we left off.”

A bout of hysterical laughter forces its way to her lips and Beca doesn’t even bother trying to stop it.

That had to be the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

“ _Continue where you left off!”_ She hisses, “Really? Want to explain why you’re chasing after Chloe when you’re still wearing your wedding ring, hmm?”

Chicago mutters an expletive as he quickly lifts his right hand to inspect at his ring finger which is, in fact, devoid of any ring.

“Busted.” She smirks at having caught him out. “For the record, my **_girlfriend_** and I are very busy right now, and there’s only one set of lips she will be kissing from here on out. Got it? Mine!” and she _slams_ the door in his face.

She releases a long breath and leans back against the door, her heart pounding in her chest at the sheer nerve of the soldier. He had the _married_ vibe about him; thank _God_ she’d guessed right…

Being married **and** chasing after someone else.

_Fuck him and his lying, cheating ass._ Men like him charm women into sleeping with them, stringing them along for a while with their promises and lies, only to leave them hanging when they inevitably go back to their wives to play the _good, doting husband_.

The soft padding of feet on the carpeted floor shakes Beca from her internal musings.

“Technically two.” A husky voice retorts, seduction oozing from her tone like sweet, sticky honey. Beca’s jaw fully drops and she instinctively stands up straight when she takes in the sight of Chloe leaning against the entranceway completely and unashamedly naked.

She not sure she’ll ever get used to being allowed to look.

“Oh yeah?” Maybe she’s still reeling after her conversation with Kentucky outside, but she has no idea what the girl is talking about.

_Two what?_

“Mmmhmm,” comes the breathy reply as Chloe seductively struts forward and shoves Beca fully into the door, forcefully untying her robe and pushing it off her shoulders so that it falls unceremoniously to the floor.

They both stay silent for several long moments. Chloe’s nude body is flush against her own, their gazes intensely locked as they both breathe heavily, anticipation crackling in the air surrounding them.

Chloe brushes her lips over Beca’s in a ghost of a kiss, and grazing her tongue against the seam of her lower lip, she exhales a raspy, “ ** _one_** ,” before pulling back with a wicked grin curved onto her lips.

Her dilated ocean blues give away her intentions, and Beca’s head _thuds_ into the door when Chloe swipes a single finger through her soaked folds, “and **_two_**.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Beca hisses.

She then watches as her girlfriend raises her finger to her mouth, pulling it in and sucking on it gently, allowing Beca to see her tongue swirling around it collecting her juices.

“Mmm, you’re positively _delicious,_ Bec. But I have to admit, I’ve built up quite an appetite… just not for food. Maybe that’s something you can help me with?” _It’s rhetorical._

She leisurely sinks down onto her knees and Beca feels her heart-rate spike quite considerably. _Jesus_. Chloe Beale kneeling in front of her, totally nude, eyes intensely holding her own captive, with the intention of eating her out… 

_This is such stuff that fantasies are made of._

Butterflies erupt in her stomach and her legs tremble with a whole different kind of adrenaline. She’s dizzy; whether it is due to Chloe’s filthy words or the tantalising sight in front of her, she doesn’t know, but she may very possibly pass out at any second.

_God,_ she needs Chloe’s mouth on her right fucking **NOW**.

Lips as soft as silk press into the slight curve of her stomach, leaving tender kisses on her heated skin; a contrast to her frenzied actions from before that makes her shiver all the same. Although Beca _loves_ how sweet and thoughtful she is, she needs desperate, she needs hot, she needs _lustful_. They have all the time in the world for _loving_.

She combs her fingers though luscious red locks and tugs, “I love you, Chlo, but I _need_ you now,” and the kneeling girl nods eagerly as though wanting nothing more than to please her… as though Beca is her **mistress** … but she knows first-hand that Chloe is anything but submissive.

She is assertive, daring, and knows precisely what she wants and how she wants to take it.

Delicate pecks transition into searing open-mouthed kisses as she licks and nips at Beca’s navel, leaving a burning inferno behind every time her lips touch her skin. The brunette readies herself, ensuring that she is completely stable, both physically and emotionally; she wants this experience to last as long as possible and she doesn’t quite trust herself or her body not to fuck it up.

Chloe’s meticulous fingers casually glide through her slippery folds and press up into her pussy, gently stimulating it at the same time her lips trail a fiery path down towards her pubic bone.

“Fuuuuck,” Beca moans wantonly, her eyes unable to tear themselves away from Chloe as she rocks into her fingers. It’s enough pressure to make her mouth go completely dry - all liquid redistributing elsewhere - as she tries her best to not lose consciousness from the over-stimulation of every single one of her senses.

Dextrous fingers then change course and drift up through her lower lips, focusing on collecting and spreading the moisture found there, and coating Beca’s swollen clit with the juices before sliding back down and repeating the motions.

She blinks and suddenly her girlfriend has removed her lips from her navel and has leant back far enough to pay closer attention to her actions. Her eyes are focused on the way her fingers are working and she taps on Beca’s thighs with her free hand so as to widen her stance and open her up further to her.

“You okay?” Chloe’s unsteady voice weakens her knees; the fact that the redhead is so turned… simply by touching her… it’s indescribable what that knowledge does to her.

Beca finds herself unable to hold back another moan as the pressure within her stomach gradually builds in time to Chloe’s movements. “ _Fuck, Chlo!”_

_Up, down, rub, up, down, press_ is the pattern Chloe is abiding by, working furiously at her pussy as though there is nothing else more deserving of her attention. On one occasion, her fingers travel too far down and slip inside her cunt, discovering even more of her wetness there, before removing them and swiftly using the extra lubrication to roll her clit in tighter circles.

Beca squeaks and Chloe throws a devious smirk her way in response as she repeats the action, this time increasing the pressure on her stiffened bud and quickening the pace of her strokes.

“Chlo!” She cries out, her hips jerking into Chloe’s talented fingers as she attempts to brace herself fully against the door; collapsing to the floor is not her idea of fun, especially if it puts a stop to this.

Beca gets the impression that Chloe is getting far too much pleasure from watching her lose herself in her fingering… because if she keeps going the way she is, Chloe will certainly be witnessing something special alright _._ The loss of Beca’s sanity, most likely.

_So close._

Chloe lifts herself up to find Beca’s left breast with her lips, sucking on her nipple roughly before tugging at it with her teeth, all the while continuing to rub frantically at her aching clit. Beca’s fingers are still intertwined in Chloe’s hair as she holds her into her chest, not really knowing what else she could do with them.

It’s as though she is anchoring herself, Chloe always having been her rock… only this time, _literally_.

She can’t fully grasp how quickly Chloe has worked her up in such a short amount of time; there is absolutely no way Beca’s arousal can grow any more than it already has, and she is fully aware that there is nothing she can do to fight it.

Moreover, she doesn’t want to fight it.

And with a particularly harsh tug at her nipple alongside the blur of working fingers at her pussy, the pressure is so unbearable that Beca literally explodes, cumming violently with a piercing shriek, “ _Chloe_!”

The only word that means anything to her.

Swiftly releasing Beca’s nipple to help her gently slide down and sit on the soft plush carpet, Chloe wastes no time in parting her trembling legs and diving right in for her main course.

_Bon appetite._

Beca grasps at Chloe’s ginger locks in astonishment, as her brain short-circuits; she is already is so damn sensitive because she hasn’t yet fully come down from her orgasm. Chloe’s tongue delicately licks a long path through Beca’s silky folds and all the way up to her engorged clit, and _fucking hell_ she can feel the pressure building all over again.

This had _never_ happened before. Certainly never with any guy she’d slept with in the past (usually conked out after the first round), and she was usually far too sensitive to push herself for a second round when masturbating… she had no idea this was even possible.

_God she loves being a woman… and loves being **with** a woman; Chloe really knows what she is doing._

Her mouth opens as a breathless hum forces its way from her throat, and she can’t concentrate on anything other than the demanding mouth that is eating her out like she’s her fucking four-course meal.

Beca gasps so suddenly she isn’t completely sure she has the ability to continue properly breathing, let alone do anything more than just lie there and allow Chloe take her. Beca does, however, widen her legs and rock herself into her questing tongue.

The _slurping_ of her girlfriend suckling at her clit is positively filthy to her ears, but so _fucking_ arousing Beca doesn’t even know how to react to it. She certainly wouldn’t complain if Chloe decides to wake her up like this every damned morning for the rest of their lives. Fuck sleeping in if this is the alternative; she’d never sleep away the day again.

She finds herself wondering how wet Chloe is and whether, if she moved her own hand between her girlfriend’s legs, she’d find a similar amount of arousal there. She is tempted to find out first-hand, but with her hands still on Chloe’s head as her mouth reduces her to nothing more than grunts and whines, she physically cannot muster up the energy to move them elsewhere.

She can barely keep her eyes open long enough to watch Chloe between her legs, but when she does, _holy moly_ , she has to fight off the orgasm that threatens to overpower her there and then.

Chloe’s arduous tongue is relentless in its assault, and Beca’s hips have a mind of their own as they gyrate into her mouth, frantic and greedy for more. So much more.

_God it’d been far too long since someone had gone down on her, and Chloe’s honestly spoilt her for anyone else._ Not that she could **ever** want anyone else.

Chloe is her one and only.

Beca holds onto Chloe’s head firmly as she simultaneously tugs on her hair in sheer desperation; the vibrations of the girl’s “Hmmm” on her pussy feel utterly- _fuck fuck fuck fuck fu-_

Two lithe fingers enter her cunt slowly, of course, so as not to hurt her. Chloe then twists her wrist gently, curling them into her walls as her tongue flattens against her clit, lapping at her slowly. _Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop._

Much to her chagrin, Chloe does pause, and Beca is reluctant to admit it but she releases a keening whine at the loss of movement.

Gathering up what little energy she could find, she shoots a glare down to Chloe, but her frustration quickly dissipates at the sight of the woman blinking owlishly back up at her, tongue circling her lips with a pleased hum. The same way she would lick her lips after consuming her raspberry and mint chocolate ice-cream… her most favourite food…

Another smirk later, Chloe parts her folds with her free hand and leisurely extends her tongue again to slide through, collecting the recently accumulated arousal. This time, she never once looks away, and Beca feels herself clench tightly around the fingers still buried deeply inside.

_Shit, she likes being watched, that’s so fucking hot._

“Chlo, _fuck me_ , please, please, please. I need you to make me cum _so_ _badly_ ,” she whimpers pathetically as she attempts to motivate Chloe into working her tongue just a little faster over her swollen pussy, struggling to hold herself up as she does.

Chloe exhales unsteadily, her hot breath rushing over her sensitive clit. She looks positively _ruined_ by her words, but to her credit, she immediately obeys.

She pulls Beca’s clit fully into her mouth, tongue enclosing around it as she sucks, all the while hooking her fingers as she thrusts into her cunt hard and fast, just like Beca had wanted. Her thighs automatically close around Chloe’s head, pressing into her ears and most likely muffling the sounds she is making.

Her eyes roll up to stare at the bare ceiling, her vision glazed over as her best friend, her girlfriend, continues using her magical tongue between her legs. She finds herself wishing there were a mirror above her, and even just the idea of that takes her higher: the muscles of Chloe’s back hardening with her every move, the different visual angle of Chloe’s assault on her pussy as she is laid out fully between spread thighs, and her biceps rippling with the strain of each thrust… _Fucking hell._

She’s losing herself in Chloe, wholly and freely, and there’s no one else she’d rather lose herself to. She’s soaring through the clouds, flying higher than she’s ever been before, higher, higher, and - Chloe twists her fingers, curling them deeply as her tongue brushes over her clit one final time – she’s gone.

The shrill scream of Chloe’s name – which could probably be heard by everyone in the hotel – followed by rhythmic “ _YES! Thank you thank you thank you,”_ precedes Beca cumming a second time.

Like thin ice, the world around her fractures before shattering completely as she falls through… but instead of icy coldness, she may as well be fully immersed in lava; burning up from the inside to the outside in an all-consuming abyss of sweltering heat, before her body collapses into a pathetic, heaving state.

Chloe slows down her fingers that are still within Beca’s inner walls as well as the gentle lapping of her tongue, carefully bringing Beca down from her high, before she pulls back to press a lingering kiss to her lips, her tongue grazing over Beca’s.

She can _taste_ herself, _fuck._

Beca reaches over to return the favour, but Chloe clasps at her wrist with her free hand, their mouths never once parting. No heat, no lust, just a sweet, lasting kiss shared between two lovers.

Chloe gingerly extracts her fingers from Beca’s still-spasming cunt, a thick coat of Beca’s essence covering them, and she tenderly strokes them over the length of her pussy one final time… as though memorising it.

“This one was all for you, my love.” Chloe breathes into her lips as she sits up with a slight wince, her joints most likely a little stiff from how she’d been positioned. “I wish we could stay up here forever, but the girls are probably looking for us; and Khaled is likely wanting to hear from you.”

Tears pool in Beca’s eyes; she wishes they had more time together, a couple of days… a week even.

“I don’t want to,” she whimpers. “I don’t want to leave you when I’ve only just got you.”

Sensing the gravity of what Beca is trying to say, Chloe gets to her feet and extends her hands out in order to pull her up from the floor. She moves them back into the warmth of their suite, away from the slightly draft of the entranceway, and tugs the girl into her loving embrace.

“You won’t leave me, just as I won’t leave you. This is it, babe. We’re all in. I love you and you love me.” Chloe murmurs into her ear, her tone filled to the brim with love and affection.

Beca shuffles even closer to her, burrowing her face into Chloe’s neck and breathing her scent in. It soothes her; it’s always soothed her. The citrusy zest of her conditioner mixed with the sweet earthiness that she associates with Chloe’s natural aroma feels like coming home. 

And Chloe has been her home for such a long time.

“What about the distance? You’re going to NYC, and I’m probably going to LA. I don’t want us to fall apart because we find long-distance hard to maintain,” Beca anxiously bites down on her swollen lower-lip.

She’d heard of so many relationships crumbling because they couldn’t handle the distance, the extra effort into maintaining it, and the thought of that happening to her and Chloe is utterly _terrifying_.

To be truthful, there have been many occasions where she finds it difficult to get a good read on Chloe’s emotions, even when standing right next to her. Add in a few thousand miles between them, and she is petrified she will miss any signs of Chloe being unhappy, or of things not working out.

Her girlfriend looks thoughtful for a moment, before ultimately shaking her head, a new type of fire beginning to burn in the breadth and depth of her eyes.

“Babe, relationships are always hard; we both know that. But you and I? We’re _Titanium_. Together we are strong, but apart? We are so much stronger. Our love for one another has already survived seven years.”

Beca snorts, her eyes rolling in amusement. “But we were still physically together and not on opposite sides of the country. It’s different.” She releases a sigh.

“About that…” Chloe trails off ominously, eyes flickering to the side.

Beca leans back, her stomach churning nervously at Chloe’s unusual behaviour.

“So, I had actually planned on telling you before your performance, but I didn’t want to interrupt you whilst you were getting into your _on_ - _stage mindset_ … that adorable thing you always do before you perform to get rid of your nerves.” Chloe is rambling and Beca knows she only does that when she’s worried about something.

“Tell me what?”

“See, it wasn’t just Cornell that I applied for. I had actually sent an application out for **another** Vet School after my supervisor suggested I apply because she knows someone who works there. She’d told me that she would be happy to recommend me.”

Beca’s breath hitches, her heart jumping to her throat. “Where is the second?”

“UC Davis, School of Veterinary Medicine.” Beca swallows roughly. “California.” Tears blur her eyesight. “I got offers from both.”

Beca’s face crumples and she chokes out a loud sob as Chloe wraps her arms tightly around her waist, her own cries audible. _She can’t believe it._ Beca closes her eyes firmly, the warmth of Chloe around her grounding her, keeping her sane.

She wants to pinch herself to make sure this isn’t some perfect and wonderful dream she is going to wake up from; only to find herself alone, heartbroken, and Chloe, far away and happy with someone that isn’t her.

“Have you chosen yet?” Beca asks into her neck, wiping her tears on Chloe’s skin. She’s not quite ready to see her reaction, just in case it’s not what she is looking for, so she holds her breath and waits for her response.

“Oh babe.” Chloe coos. “Of course I haven’t, I only found out a few hours ago. I was waiting to speak to you first so that we could discuss it. I know Khaled will be taking you to LA with him, but would you be happy for me to come and-”

“Obviously I would!” Beca bursts out emphatically, unable to wait much longer to let Chloe know how _very much_ she wants her to move to LA with her.

_How on Earth could Chloe think that she would be less than okay with her coming to LA?_

“Babe, I know we only just… made things official last night, but Chlo, I want you with me wherever life takes me, us. You’re it for me. For today, tomorrow, and the _rest of my life._ ”

Their lips come together in a sweet kiss before Beca ends it to trail a single finger reverently over Chloe’s puffy lips, mesmerised by their silky softness. _Beautiful._

“But, I want to make sure you’re choosing Davis for you, babe. Not just for me and us. I’m so utterly proud of you, Chlo, and if you choose Cornell because it’s better, then I can wait the three years-”

“-Four,” Chloe sheepishly corrects with a slight wince. “The DVM course is **_four_** years.”

“…Four? Really?” Chloe nods, and Beca purses her lips before nodding resolutely. “Well, I will wait the four years if Cornell is where you want to go. Of course I will. I love you and I can’t wait to be with you fully, wholly, and then we can get married, have kids, and grow old together. I’ve waited seven years for you, I can do an extra four knowing we have a whole lifetime ahead of us.”

Chloe’s bottom lip trembles and Beca can sense just how much she needed to hear those words. She hopes with all her heart that her girlfriend understands her underlying message.

_She is worth the wait_.

Appreciating that Chloe is now the one in need of reassurance, Beca takes control of the embrace, holding the girl against her body; combing through her hair with the fingers of one hand and smoothing over her back and hips with the other. Providing warmth. Comfort.

And most importantly, providing _love._

“It ma-akes me so happy to h-hear you say that.” Chloe hiccups, her breathing quick and uneven as she desperately tries to control her emotions. “B-but I’m doing this for me too. Davis is the top vet school in the country, Cornell coming in close second. So really, you being in LA makes it easier for me to choose; and I know they would both be amazing opportunities for me.”

Chloe hooks her chin onto Beca’s shoulder, her nose nuzzling affectionately into the side of her neck as Beca rocks them both soothingly.

“Bec, I want to spend the rest of my life with you too; marriage, kids, growing old together… all of it. I can’t wait to do that in LA. I’ll get in contact with Davis when we head down for breakfast to accept their offer.”

Hearing the very _real_ confirmation of Chloe expressing her desire to have a future with her… it’s more than she could ever have hoped for. That she wants to move to LA to start their life together, experience each milestone side by side…

Beca honestly cannot even begin to fathom just how damn lucky she really is. To think she could have missed this had she not acted when she did…

She is well aware that they have current responsibilities, what with rounding up the Bellas, Chloe calling her chosen Vet School, and her with finding Khaled, but she wants to remain within the confinements of their personal bubble just a little while longer.

“I-I don’t want to go down just yet… just… hold me, Chlo?” Chloe sends her a watery smile, her glimmering eyes so kind and full of adoration and _love._

Beca is a sap, a sappy mess, but she is Chloe’s _sappy mess_ , and there’s no other way she’d rather have it.

“My love, I’d hold you for the rest of our lives if you asked me to.” She quietly responds, and Beca never wants to let her go.

So she doesn’t.

They’re both naked, and yet there is nothing _sexual_ about their embrace. If anything, it proves that there are no barriers between them, physical or emotional. They are completely open and exposed, at their most vulnerable, and there is **nothing** more intimate than that, in Beca’s opinion.

Here they stand; two women who met in the unlikeliest of circumstances and then went on to become the closest of friends. Two women who have struggled and fought for even just the slightest glimpse of happiness for well over seven years. Two women who gradually found love along the way and hid it through fear of losing the most important person in their lives.

Two women who risked their hearts and _beat the odds_ simply because they believed their love was worth the fight.

And **that** is the story of how these two women finally found their happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> >The film Beca was referring to is called The Croods - and funny story, I love the quote so damn much, which is why I used it... it wasn't until I looked a little deeper that I made the connection between Eep and Beca... which daaaaym, it's actually pretty scary how accurate the link is.
> 
> >The poem Beca recites is called True Love, by Helen Steiner Rice, and it is an utterly beautiful poem. I had initially planned to use Hour by Carol Ann Duffy as a way of depicting them cherishing the time they spend together without worrying about running out of time, but changed it at the last second because I stumbled across True Love.
> 
> >And of course "Ce N'est Pas Moi" are in fact the very words written on Beca's arm tattoo, and I take full credit for finding that out myself and sharing it with the fandom. I asked the PP make-up artist on twitter a few years back and she told me as well as showed me the picture, and what I wrote in the fic was part of my analysis. I decided that Beca had chosen it to be written in French because her Grandmother was French, and it was a tribute to her beautiful language whilst reminding herself that the person she shows herself to be in front of others is not the real her.
> 
> End of A/N
> 
> **************************************************************************************************
> 
> This... is... it.
> 
> You've reached the end of my story, but not the end of Beca and Chloe's story. Theirs has only just begun.
> 
> For everyone that's stuck with me throughout, for being so damn patient with me, your kind words and encouragement have kept me going. Truly, I appreciate you all so much.
> 
> And for those who have waited out for this WIP to become completed, gosh I admire your strength and resiliance. I hope this was worth the wait.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts, because damn... I'm getting all emotional again at having to say goodbye to this one.
> 
> I don't always write fics, but I'm so damn thankful that the kiss inspired me. I at least had something to keep myself occupied with over lockdown, rather than be bored out of my mind.


End file.
